


How it Came to Be

by gouguruheddo



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Anti-Takeru, Break Up, F/M, Hurt, M/M, Minor canon character given character, Non-Linear Narrative, Sex, Sexuality Crisis, epilogue compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gouguruheddo/pseuds/gouguruheddo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen years later, Daisuke and Ken deal with their relationship, the fall out, and the women that follow. Daisuke x Ken, Daisuke x Tatum, Ken x Miyako</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't Follow

Daisuke rolled over, subconsciously noticing the cold, empty space next to him. Slowly, his eyes opened, blinking several times as his hand probed the spot where his partner usually laid. Sitting up, he looked around the room, the yellow hue of the streetlamp outside cast a long cylinder of color across the bedroom. It was sparsely decorated--containing only the bed, a bed stand, dresser, and closet door. They didn’t need much else, and what they did have was packed away.

A blue glow radiated from the crack in the door, drawing Daisuke to the end of the bed. His legs hung off the edge, his fingers squeezing the plush of the mattress before finally letting his feet touch the cool floor. He stared at the door for a few minutes, his eyes adjusting to the lowlight of the apartment, anxious of what the rest of the household had for him. Carefully, he stood up and slunk to the doorway, the door opening with a slight creaking protest.

The rest of the apartment was dark. Above the sink was a window that pointed away from the street, allowing the combination kitchen and dining room to be flooded with a blue hue from the waning moon. Daisuke tilted his head from side to side before finally noting the hunched figure at the dining table. Padding over with bare feet, he rested his hands on the man’s shoulders and pressed his lips to the top of soft, dark hair. “Come back to bed, Ichijouji.”

Ken’s shoulders tensed up, his hands curling up on the table surface before an audible sigh escaped his nose. His only answer was a headshake. Daisuke pressed his thumbs into Ken’s shoulder blades, rubbing small, coaxing circles on his partner’s shoulders. Finally, Ken spoke.

“Stop.”

Daisuke’s hands recoiled as he took a step back, feeling as if he had been sucker punched in the gut. “Ken?” He took a seat at the table’s only other chair. Even in the dull light, he could see that Ken wasn’t looking at him--that he was focused solely on the wood grains of the table than on the face of the man he intended to move to a new continent with.

“Daisuke…” Ken trailed. The apartment was quiet besides the soft snoring of Chibimon from the living room. “I…”

“Talk to me.” Daisuke placed a hand on Ken’s, the latter retracting from the touch. Ken folded into himself, one hand holding his shoulder while the other held an elbow. Daisuke frowned.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

Ken dug his fingernails into his shoulder so hard that it stung his skin. “I can’t go.”

“What do you mean?” Daisuke’s tone was flat.

“I just… Can’t. Go to America. I can’t.”

Daisuke’s first reaction was anger. It swelled in his belly like an angry dragon, erupting from his throat with controlled heat. “Yes. You can. We’ve had the plane tickets for months. Most of our stuff is already boxed! This is happening!”

The chosen of kindness retracted more, his face now covered by his hair. “No.”

“Ken! We talked about this for years! You… You can’t!”

“I can. And I’m not.” Ken’s words started to catch in his throat. He was trying to be firm, to be strict with his intentions, but he was already starting to fail.

“But.” Daisuke’s breathing heaved as he gripped the end of the table with one hand, finding his gaze to the window instead of at his boyfriend. “Why?”

Ken unhinged from himself and drew his arms out on the table. He picked at his fingernails even though there was no dirt to clean. “I just can’t. I don’t have that same dream. I want to be here with my family and our friends. You know… I don’t have that same sense of adventure you do.”

“Why?” Daisuke was still confused and hurt and mad. He tried to keep his voice down as he continued to interrogate.  “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Why _now_?”

“I love you, Dai.” Ken started.

“I love you too!” Daisuke turned to look at Ken, eagerly hoping that somehow those four words would change the discussion around.

“... So, I wanted to be there for you. I really thought I wanted this. I convinced myself that I did. But I don’t. I can’t keep lying to myself. I don’t want to make it miserable for you. I don’t… Want to be a burden. Not again.” Ken let out a sigh, relieved to get his true feelings out, but sad by its content.

“We… What…” He bit his lip, the heat in his belly being replaced by an icy rock. “What does it mean… For us?”

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable silence. Daisuke squeezed the end of the table, his brow furrowing with every flex. It had been his greatest fear--that something like this would happen someday.

“You know what it means, Dai.”

“No. No. You don’t get… You don’t get to call me that.” Daisuke spat.

“Motomiya-kun...”

Ken hadn’t called him that in years--not since they were kids--far before they shared their bodies and lives with each other. Daisuke’s chest expanded with air, his eyes blurring with tears, his mouth up turning into a frown, the creases on his cheeks made more pronounced by the dark hair of his goatee. He gripped the table so hard his knuckles went white, his other hand coming up to hide his face as large tears trailed down his cheeks.

“I love you.” Ken repeated. “I always will. You will always be my best friend. But I can’t follow you.” There were tears welling in his eyes as his voice threatened to wobble into uncertainty. He too feared for this day--the day where he would have to tell the truth, where he would hold Daisuke’s heart in his hands and watch it break before his eyes. He had prolonged his feelings in hopes that he would change, that maybe if things continued to solidify around him, he’d emerge with a new understanding. But that didn’t happen. “I can’t follow you…” He repeated, his voice trailing off into a pathetic whimper.

It had made sense now, Daisuke supposed, his shoulders jerking with silent sobs. Ken had been distant for the past few months. He had avoided romantic advances or lacked any enthusiasm of the plans for their new apartment in New York. It made sense now that Daisuke was the one that put the tape and labels on the boxes, bringing the finality to their move instead of Ken.

Between the silent sobs were audible ones, and Daisuke brought his feet up to the chair, wrapping his arms around his knees and buried his face in his thighs. “I don’t think I can do this without you,” he said between hiccups. “I can’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t losing me. You’ll be fine. I know it, and you know it. You still have my support.” Ken finally looked at his friend, but was not greeted with those dark chocolate eyes he had always loved.

Daisuke sat and thought. Memories circled through his mind. Feelings flashed against his heart. Was he not good enough? Was that it? Did he do something wrong? How could he not have noticed this sooner? Did that make him a bad partner? He should have been more aware of Ken’s needs. He shouldn’t have been so selfish. He didn’t have to go, right? Would that make Ken love him again? If he gave up everything would it make everything better?

“I don’t have to go. I mean, I’ll lose a lot of money, but money is money and I can get it back. I don’t have to go, I don’t even--” Daisuke cut himself off in his own crying--his sobs could have easily been mistaken for laughter if not for the situation.

“Motomiya.” Ken wanted to reach out, but knew if he did he’d find himself saying much the same things as Daisuke. He knew that wasn’t a healthy solution. “You have to go. If you stay here, you’ll resent me. If you go, you may forgive me. I know how much this means to you.”

“Not as much as you mean to me! Fuck! It’s like you never understand that, Ken!” Daisuke lifted his head and glared at his partner. Snot and tears drained down his face, revealing how perfectly Ken had broken him. “I’d give up everything! I’ll do anything!”

“Stop.” Ken pat his hand on the table with a soft slap. “Stop. Think for a second about what you’re saying.”

“I am!”

“No, you aren’t. You have Tatum and Wallace and Mimi out there… Not to mention the slew of other friends you have. You’re a survivor. It’s easy for you to make friends. I’m not like that. I’d be alone. You can… Only give me so much.”

Daisuke sniffed in and dragged his palms across his eyes to dry his cheeks. He continued to take the time to clean his face as he thought about Ken’s words. So he had been a bad partner. He had let his own selfishness control his life--his dreams to consume his relationship into a pit of fear and discomfort. Ken had just always been so supportive, so positive about it for so long, that he didn’t really stop to think how he may have really felt. Stupid. Stupid stupid. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ken shook his head, another wave of tears threatening to breach as he did. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s just who we are.”

Placing an elbow on the table, Daisuke cradled his chin as he looked out the window again. “I guess. I wish it wasn’t like this.”

“I know. Me either.”

Daisuke’s lips curled into a frown as he sniffed back more tears, shaking his head in hopes of warding off the sorrow. “The idea of hurting you and making you unhappy is just… Unbearable. If you’re saying that moving would do that… Fuck… Shit. No. I get it. I _get_ it. I really do. _I get it_. It just hurts.”

“Of course it hurts, Daisuke.” Ken reached out to offer his hand, a gesture his partner immediately took with great need. He tried to hold back his coming words, they wouldn’t make anything better, but he had to. “I love you so much. More than anything.”

Daisuke clasped his other hand on Ken’s and gripped until one of his knuckles popped. With a weak chuckle, the red-head nodded. “Yeah yeah. Same here. Stop being so gay.”

Ken breathed out a laugh as well, taking his free hand to wipe his face. “Right. Sorry.”

They were silent for a few minutes, their hands still wrapped together. The weight of the future without each other was daunting, but the understanding of the downfalls of remaining together seemed to be much heavier. Losing their friendship was worse than losing their romantic life. They both deserved to be happy. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that it couldn’t work out.

“You’ll visit, right?” Daisuke asked. His voice was returning to normal.

“Of course. At least once a year. Probably twice. And we always have the Digital World.”

Daisuke smiled weakly. “I’ll visit too. We’ll be able to see each other a lot, I guess. Huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah we will.”

Nodding to himself, mostly as a way to shake off his discomfort, Daisuke continued. “Ken?”

“Dai?”

“Can I keep that shirt?” Even in the dark, Daisuke’s weak smile reached Ken, a gesture that was easy to return. Ken nodded. “Good, it looks better on me.”

“I know.”

“If you want it back, you’ll just have to come get it.”

“A challenge?”

“You bet.”

Ken drew one hand away, letting one of Daisuke’s to lay palm up in his. He stroked the back of his friend’s hand with delicate fingers, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time he’d share a tender moment with the man. But after pressing a thumb lightly into the center of Daisuke’s palm, Ken knew he had begun on a beginning to an end.


	2. Won't Follow

Daisuke curled his toes against the fabric of the couch, his breathing even and his eyes narrow. His fingers flipped through the edges of the comic book, the top corners of the pages beginning to crease with each pass. Reading the same passage for the fifth time, he shook his head and slapped the book shut.

It was hard to concentrate. In a matter of days he was going to be on a plane to America. Everything he had ever really known was going to be a memory--and each moment alone was pressing in self-doubt and debilitating fear.

The man brought his knees up and rested his forehead on them. For nearly a week he hadn’t moved much from the living room. The once packed boxes were torn back open as Ken’s things was separated from his. They were supposed to go together--build a life across the sea in one of the biggest and most progressive cities in the world. It was going to be great. They were going to be a _couple_. But in the end, Ken had declined, and although Daisuke tried hard to be understanding and calm, everything within was shattered.

He was angry. Angry that he wasn’t good enough. That he let himself believe. That his love may have been for naught. That all the time he had spent wanting and loving and being the best he could be for Ken, he was apparently so easy to just toss away. That his partner couldn’t be honest with him sooner. About _everything_.

He was sad. Sad that he was going to be alone. That the best relationship he had ever had, friendship and romantically, was about to end. That after all of this, he wasn’t even _sure_ if he could keep the friendship. That after this, he couldn’t even bring himself to love again. That, maybe, just maybe, this sadness would never truly go away.

But most of all, he was empty. Because at this point, no emotions _really_ mattered. If he gave up on moving--if he stayed in Japan with Ken--there was no guarantee that they could return to normal. He had always thought he needed Ken as much as Ken needed him--but now he wasn’t so sure. And it was moments like these that manifested his self-consciousness and insecurities--terrible demons that he always had a hard time fighting on his own. All of it left a bitter, sticky fog around his mind.

It was bad enough, he thought, that his parents already doubted his abilities. That his sister was underzealous about her younger brother’s aspirations. “Going to America? Baby brother, you sure you can handle that?”

“If I could--”

“‘If I could save the Digital World...’” She mocked. She really did care about her brother, as did the rest of the family. They just never realized how much their lancing left a poison inside of his bloodstream. “This is different. You won’t have mom and dad to mooch off of anymore.”

“I wasn’t mooching, Jun.” Daisuke slammed his fist on the dining room table. The small vase of fake flowers at the center bounced and swayed. “I was paying my due.”

“And going off with that Ichijouji. How’d you ever rope him into that?”

Daisuke’s eyes averted away from his sister’s, his glance latching on the calendar in the kitchen. It was a couple of weeks from Golden Week--when Ken and him were to make their move. His mother had circled the date in a thick red marker with nothing but a big frowny face within its confines. “It’s better for him career-wise. He finished school a semester early, and well… It just made sense.”

Jun hummed. “Yeah, maybe… Wow, I bet all the girls will be all over him! Good thing you have separate rooms, if you know what I mean!” She laughed before adding, “Boy sure did grow up to be fiiiiiine.”

Daisuke rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

They didn’t know, and he supposed now they never would, that they hadn’t just been roommates for the past three years. It took a lot of well communicated lies and elaborate backstories to keep their friends and family away from the truth. It wasn’t that they were ashamed, it was just…

Well…

Daisuke’s nose squinched up, hot tears stinging his eyes. All that there was now was a figment of what used to be, in the apartment they had shared for years. And he started to wonder why. Why had it been like this for so long? After living a lie for three years, Daisuke felt foolish for even being upset that Ken had waited until the last minute to be honest with him.

As Daisuke was pressing his forehead deeper into his knees, he heard the jingle of keys and the jiggling of the doorknob. Fluidly, Ken appeared in the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him as he entered the kitchen. “I’m home.” He said softly, resting his keys on the kitchen table with little disturbance.

Daisuke’s brow furrowed. He wanted to tell the man to fuck off but not to. All he wanted was for him to stay with him forever. Instead, he said nothing.

“Daisuke…” Ken stood an arms length away from the couch, looking down at the bundled man he had once called his partner. “I…” He did a brief scan of the room before continuing. “You… Didn’t mail out the boxes.”

Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t even left the couch in over four hours. He failed to mutter an audible retort.

“You only have a few days, Daisuke.”

Of course he knew that. How stupid did he think he was? Anyway, what did it matter to him?

“This is what you wanted, and you have to finish. I’m not packing this for you.”

And there it was.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” It was raw and pained and muffled and quick, striking Ken like a viper.

“Hey.” Ken dug his hands into his pants as his shoulders jutted up defensively. “Calm down.”

“I…” Daisuke lifted his face to rest his chin on his knees. “Don’t fucking come in here and be all judgemental.” He shook his head as Ken tried to protest. “I’ll get it done. So, how about you calm down.”

Daisuke could feel the flare of emotion in Ken, but his friend continued to keep his composure. “I can help. Most of my stuff is separated at this point. We can combine some boxes… Save some money for you…”

There was a scoff from the red-head. “Whoopie.”

Ken moved closer to the couch, placing his hand on the back of it, his head tilted down to try to meet Daisuke’s gaze. Normally, this would have ended with Ken wrapping his long limbs around the other man, their lips meeting in a happy greeting between soft smiles. But today, Ken found his hand squeezing the plush of the furniture, lips twitching into a frown. “Stop it. I know this isn’t easy. You don’t need to be an asshole.”

“Ha! You should talk!” Daisuke’s puffy eyes met with Ken’s. “The Asshole of the Year is telling _me_ I’m being an asshole? I’m not the one that decided to pussy out last minute. Fucking… Mess up _our entire lives_. The _hell_ do you get off telling me _shit_?”

Ken’s jaw tightened. Coming home from his job for the past week had been grueling. Being around Daisuke was like walking on and eating glass. He had half thought about returning home until Daisuke had his shit sorted out in an attempt to avoid all the stress and anger. “You’re being unfair.” Ken’s eyebrows knit. “It’s very unbecoming of you.”

With a flick of the wrist, Daisuke threw his comic book across the floor, his body shifting to stand. His legs were wobbly and half asleep from having been sitting for so long. Whirling around, he pointed his finger in Ken’s face across the couch. “I’ll tell _you_ what’s unfair.” He put his hands on his hips as he continued, “The past three years. All of it.”

“Motomiya, please. You don’t really think that.”

“Do I not? How the fuck do you know? We never talked about anything!”

Ken was quiet, his shoulders resting down to a slump. “Yes, we did.”

Daisuke’s tone was turning to a plead, both his hands extending out, his fingers gently curling back into his palms. He licked his lips, “We didn’t talk about what counted. We could have worked something out, but…” He turned and fell back down to the couch, his head hanging. “It’s too late now.”

Even before they were couple, they had their fair share of fights. Daisuke’s lack of traditional emotional control and Ken’s overcompensation of said emotional control often left a stiff rift between them. It frustrated Daisuke that Ken conformed to societal standards so much--even more so now as he noticed that the past three years had essentially been a veil of lies to cover Ken’s shame. Daisuke had thought that he had been accommodating and thoughtful, but instead he had really been perpetrating values he hated.

Ken rounded the couch and sat at the far end, the space between them filled with the discontent of could-have-beens. “I wouldn’t ask you to be who you aren’t or to give up on your dreams, Daisuke. You mean too much to me.”

“I wish I meant more.” Daisuke wrung his hands together, his body shifting away from his jogress partner.

Ken was quiet, unsure if he should have taken offense. “Why… Would you say that?”

“Why do you really not want to come with me?”

“I want to stay here. America… Isn’t for me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Daisuke scratched the side of his face, stubble having grown out with a week’s worth of neglect. “Are you ashamed?” It came out bluntly, heavy with disdain, and reeking of pain. He wanted to regret saying it, but he felt like he had literally nothing to lose at this point.

“A-ashamed?” Ken looked at his friend. A chill washed across his body and up his spine and through his throat, until he finally croaked out, “No. No.”

Daisuke felt it. “Liar…”

The silence was brutal. Each passing second only solidified the truth. Daisuke bit his lip, his fingers digging deep into the cloth of his shorts, his nostrils flaring with anger and sadness at the very idea that he could be right. No. That he _was_ right.

“Daisuke…” Ken turned toward his partner, allowing himself to close the gap between them. The desire to comfort outweighed the need to sever their intimacy. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, placing his cheek on Daisuke’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

It was true. And it was why they could never truly be together. As friends, they were perfect for each other. In a relationship, they were a burden to each other. But the realization didn’t make it okay. It wasn’t okay. “Dammit…” Daisuke muttered, the word bubbling over the sadness in his throat. Because he didn’t want it to end. For over a decade he never imagined a life without Ken...

Ken held him closer, causing Daisuke to draw in on himself. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He wanted to push him away, but he couldn’t. Because knowing that even if Ken _could_ follow, he wouldn’t… And that just made it all that much worse.


	3. Didn't Follow

It was always these types of mornings that reminded Daisuke of Ken.

New York City was pretty different from the Tokyo suburb he had grown up in, but it was the same sun that shone through the sheer curtains here as it did back home. The sun rose later now, the cold grip of winter having set in for a couple of months, but the natural hues warmed up the room, if not in color alone.

Daisuke rolled to his side, smiling faintly as he brushed the blue hair from the girl’s face whom he shared a bed with. She groaned slightly, her face moving into his hand as she shifted onto her belly and continued to sleep. His hand ran down the sheets and landed on the small of her back, pulling himself closer to her and placing his lips on the top of her resting head.

New York was treating the chosen child well. Very well, in fact. Even after a decade and a half, he was still considered a hero, but he had no idea how much some people nearly worshipped him and the other “originals”. It felt cheap to ride on his own coat tails to find success, but so many of the other chosen were finding it difficult to avoid their pasts as well. Mimi surely embraced it--he’d seen her on _Today in America_ twice with her own cooking segments. Apparently, there was even talk of her getting her own show on one of the food networks.

For Daisuke, it meant that wherever he worked, he became a tourist attraction. It was one of the reasons he was able to so easily find an employer to get a green card. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was working. It was really working. The restaurant he was cooked at was taking his recipes seriously. He was out of the busboy role and on the line. The high pace, high stress, high energy work was _amazing_. Work was much more play than it was work--and career wise he knew he had made the right choice.

And then there was Tatum. His hand mindlessly moved to scratch her back, his fingers pressing into light massages. She had been one of the original chosen back when he had traveled for the World Tour. For awhile in their teenage years, they had been together. He learned English from her, and she learned Japanese from him. They shared similar hobbies and interests, and even in personality, they often overlapped. But it was hard to keep a relationship when there was 3000 miles of continent and an ocean between them. So, they fell apart, but held onto their strong friendship.

… That was more than he could say for him and his jogress partner.

Tatum was excited to hear Daisuke was coming to _live_ in America. She was happy by the idea of having him within minutes of her in the flesh instead of in pixels. “Holy shit! Are you serious!?” She nearly grabbed the sides of her computer monitor as Daisuke told her.

“Yeah, dude.” Daisuke smiled. Tatum was always so cute when she got excited. Her dimples created deep craters in her round cheek. “Still about a half year to go, though. We’re moving out in May.”

Tatum let out a sound that was between a groan and a scream. “Soooooo awesome. You’re going to fit right in here.”

“Hah, no shit. I can’t wait. I think it will be the change of scenery I need. Ken seems pretty excited too.”

“Oh yeah? Hard to think that guy ever gets excited.”

“Yo, be nice. That’s my boy you’re talking about.”

Tatum was the one of three people that knew Daisuke and Ken were more than just friends. The other two people were Daisuke and Ken. She chuckled. “I’m kidding. I’m glad he is. It’s so cool he’s doing this with you.”

Daisuke sat back in his chair and smiled wide. “Yeah, it is. I sure did get lucky.”

“Now if only he could convince you to shave that shit off your face.” Tatum giggled, not at all surprised when the face chat was hung up by an aggravated closing of Daisuke’s laptop.

Naturally, it broke Tatum’s heart, six months later, to watch a Daisuke that she had never seen before. Broken and callous, his body language more akin to pile of bones than the jitter of muscles and smiles he normally was. “Wait. _What_?”

“It’s just… Me.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” She saw his face contort, threatening to unleash more tears if he even had any left. “No no no. Davis, no.” With a lack of anything else to do, she touched her computer screen, hoping desperately that he could feel it through the wires. “Are you still coming here?”

Tatum thought maybe the video had frozen, but it was just that Daisuke had so little energy to move. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m still coming.”

“Okay… Okay… Well. You know you have me. We’ll get you all situated and… I’ll take you to that burger place you love. And we’ll eat like seven tubs of ice cream and watch all the _Avengers_ universe movies in a row until we fall asleep.” Tatum breathed and frowned. She was never the best at cheering people up--and she had so rarely the need to do it with Daisuke. Even when they separated originally, there was little upset between them both.

“I’d… Like that…”

And they did just that. Tatum had become his metaphorical rock as he often struggled to get out of bed in the morning. His love for his work only pulled him through the day for so long. So, after a month, she moved into the spare room to help with the bills. Four months after that, Wallace moved into the spare room when Tatum relocated into Daisuke’s. It was a nice situation, he supposed. It was like home sometimes. Not in the sense of his family, but in the sense of community, and it was nice to be able to speak his native language freely if necessary.

Now, he laid here with his girlfriend-not-girlfriend--because he wasn’t ready to move on just yet--her vibrant hair weaving a rainbow across the pillowcase. He loved her. He always had. But nothing was like the love he had had for Ken. Resting his chin on the crux of her neck, he held Tatum, smelling the dull scent of sweat from the intimacy they shared the previous night. Oh, she gave him everything--kindness, joy, love, security, and understanding...

Understanding. Understanding was her greatest virtue. Because even though she risked her own emotions by playing the part of pseudo-girlfriend, she knew she could never begin to comprehend or compete with the idea of quite literally losing a piece of your heart to somebody.

Daisuke wondered how he managed to find people that cared for him so much... When he felt like for so long he didn’t deserve anybody.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Daisuke sang. He left a kiss on her cheek, pressing his bare chest to her back.

Tatum groaned, her back contorting in several different directions as a chorus of pops sounded from her spine. “Noooooo.” She turned her head, getting immediately greeted with a kiss. She took a few minutes of groggy blinking, coyly smiling before she found more words. “You’re abnormally… Awake.”

Daisuke was just trying to mask his anxiety of what the rest of the day had in store for him. “What do you mean? I always love waking up at the asscrack of dawn. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

Tatum rolled her eyes, shifted her body to face Daisuke. “Hmmmm.” She playfully bit her lip, “Gonna call ya on your bullshit for that one.” She kissed him back.

“Damn. You’re right. Think it’s something about waking up with a pretty girl in my bed. Wait…” He went wide-eyed, pushing her lightly away. “Ew! Gross!”

Tatum butt her head into his chest, her arms wrapping around his back as she softly giggled. They laid there for a few minutes, until she was almost certain that Daisuke had fallen asleep again. “Davis?”

“Hm?”

“Are you… Ready for this?”

Daisuke didn’t say anything. It was New Year’s Eve. With that came the chosen’s annual get together--its importance this year compounded by it being the fifteenth anniversary. Everybody was going this year, not just the Japanese chosen. They had rented out a huge hall in the Digital World to accommodate all the original chosen’s, their digimon, and their plus ones. It was going to be congested and loud and crazy and overwhelming. He already had the script ready in his head for how he was going to answer the “what have you been up to?” question. He hoped he even remembered most of their names at this point.

Tatum squeezed him closer, knowing that he was struggling internally, his need lately to try to bottle in negative energy when confronted.

Oh. And it had been nearly seven months since he had even talked to Ken.

“No.” He said meekly. “Not at all.”

It was his decision. Ken had tried. At first, Daisuke had opened the emails and read them. Each one nearly a copy-paste of the last: “Hope all is going well. We miss you. Come back and visit soon.” He sat on them, debating for days on whether or not to reply. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into excuses, until finally each one was forgotten. Until new emails appeared and never lost their “unread” icon. Until he had so many missed calls on his messaging system that he didn’t even bother opening it anymore. Until Ken seemed to essentially give up a couple of months ago… Which seemed to bring on a certain sense of finality to it all that just ripped apart at Daisuke from the inside out.

“I would rather cut off both my arms. And legs.”

“Davis…” Tatum trailed. She looked up at him, orange light casting across his dark skin, accentuating the sadness in his chocolate eyes. “We don’t have to go. Wallace can make excuses for us.”

Daisuke sighed. “No… No. I can’t keep hurting Chibimon. I’m doing this for him at this point.” He frowned. If things had been hard for him, they were just as bad for Chibimon. The poor monster didn’t understand what had happened, or why he couldn’t see his best friend anymore. Daisuke imagined his partner must be feeling like when the older children’s digimon lost their ability to mega digivolve. Chibimon lost as much of a piece of himself as Daisuke did, but it wasn’t even his fault.

It wasn’t his fault.

He felt guilty about it every day.

Betamon and Terriermon were only so much companionship for the little legendary dragon. So many times, while Daisuke had been on the computer, Chibimon would climb onto his lap and struggle with the concept of dread. Finally, he’d say, “Dai?”

“Yeah, buddy?” Daisuke would say, his finger held on the down arrow on the keyboard. Familiar yet distant faces scrolled up the screen as he took a fleeting interest in their lives. Ken never posted on social networks, but he always hoped that he would. For what purpose, he wasn’t sure. Maybe to just be pissed off that the other boy existed without having him in his daily life.

“When can we see Minomon and Ken?”

Daisuke would always answer the same. “Soon.”

Chibimon kneeded on Daisuke’s legs. “But you said that three times ago, Dai. I miss Minomon.”

“I said we’d see them soon.”

“I miss hanging out with him. He was so funny! And nice. And he’s so smart. Betamon isn’t very good at building things and, Terriermon makes fun of me too much. Minomon never did that. Daisuke. Daisuke, are you listening?”

“Drop it.”

Chibimon stood up on Daisuke’s lap. “No.”

“Yes.” Daisuke spat. Angrily, Chibimon lifted himself onto the desk and slapped Daisuke’s laptop shut, the human counterpart just narrowly slipping his hands away before getting them caught in the clamshell. “What the hell!” He tried to push the digimon aside, but Chibimon laid on his hands and glared up at his partner.

“I want to see them!” Chibimon plead. “I-if we won’t see them again…” Big tears started to well in his red eyes. “Just tell me.”

Daisuke swallowed. “I’m not lying.” He slipped a hand from under his partner and placed it on Chibimon’s big cheek to wipe away a tear. “It’s almost December. You know what that means.”

Chibimon looked up at him, wide eyed. “New Year’s!” Daisuke nodded. “We get to see them then!?” Daisuke nodded again. Immediately, he jumped off the table and onto Daisuke’s chest, nuzzling and cuddling and rambling excitedly. He wiggled off onto the floor and ran into the hallway exclaiming how great his partner was and how much he loved human holidays.

Without a doubt, he had to go. He was letting his own personal discomfort affect his best friend’s life, and he had been selfish for too long.

But that didn’t mean he had to be excited for it.

“He is rather moppy about it.” Tatum said, drawing a finger across Daisuke’s forehead, moving strands of red hair from his eyes.

“It’s different for him. You know that.” Daisuke looked above Tatum’s head and bit his lip. “It’s different for me. It’s…” He hated bringing it up. He didn’t want her to feel bad for not understanding the complexities of a jogress evolution--let alone what happens to the body when you make love to an aforementioned jogress partner. She’d heard it all before--there was no point in reiterating it.

Tatum’s eyebrows upturned slightly before finally changing the subject. “How ‘bout some pancakes before the big day, eh?”

Daisuke searched Tatum’s eyes, green and bright and always full of life. She did so much to keep him happy, as he tried so hard to do for her. But it had been so difficult since he had moved here to be his old self. He was a totally different man from the one that she used to be in love with. He wondered if she wasn’t just being kind to him out of pity. “Sounds fucking awesome.”

With one last kiss, Tatum slipped out of bed and walked naked across the bedroom before being stopped at the door.

“Wait.” Daisuke said.

Tatum turned, a sly and pretty smile pinching her lips, as she slung her arms through her robe. “Yes?”

“I love you.” He wanted her to know. He _needed_ her to know. “So much.”

“I love you, too. Idiot.”

“Dummy.”

“Jerk.”

Daisuke smiled wide, struggling to find another English word to retort. “You… You… Dammit.” They both laughed as she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Daisuke let the smile slowly deteriorate from his face, the bubbly feeling of affection disappearing as the silence of the room embraced him.

Because it was alway mornings like this that reminded him of Ken, and he still couldn’t believe he didn’t follow.


	4. Should Have Followed

It had been awhile since Ken had felt such loneliness.

On one hand, the bed was much more spacious now without the real estate hog taking up enough space for three and a half people. The apartment was markedly much cleaner now, to the point of looking as if it wasn’t even habited. There was a schedule now--dinner, leisure, and sleep tended to happen at the same time every night.

On the other hand, he wondered if he had made the right choice. Even the smallest of things triggered self-doubt, right down to the way the silverware was sorted in the drawer the way he liked it. Or how everything that once used to be a pair--toothbrushes, keys, table settings--now lived without a matching set.

It was like he could see the phantoms, the outlines of things that once were, leaving holes within his living space.

Ichijouji Ken was the child prodigy. Even after the dark spore had been harvested, he never really slowed down. All the flower did was give him the ability to push through exhaustion with laser focus. Cutting out some side hobbies allowed him to still excel in school and reach the top of his class. The natural side effect to this was that he was never able to shy away from the media’s interest… Especially after he became the other half to the “hero of the world”.

“Ichijouji-kun!” Boys. Girls. Adults. Fans. No matter where he went, he was recognized. Most of the time, it was polite. Ken would bow his head with quiet recognition and sign an autograph if requested. Sometimes, it was aggressive, especially from foreigners, where they would force him to take pictures or recant tales when all he wanted to do was continue on his day.

He wanted so much to escape his past at times. It was a desire he never much grew out of even though the motivations had changed over the years. Overall, he was content with who he was as a person, but it was everything else…

“What’s wrong?” Daisuke sat across from him, a mouth full of crunchy sweets. He was preoccupying himself with a handheld game that was politely on mute.

It was Daisuke that was the one piece of his past that he never wanted to escape from.

“Just… Irritated.” Ken muttered, his focus on the plethora of homework he had to do. He was in his first year of graduate school, and it certainly wasn’t anything to sneeze at.

“Aw yeah?” The red-head shoved more chocolates into his mouth and continued speaking as he chewed. “‘Bout what?”

“Things.”

Daisuke narrowed his eyes, his cheeks still full of junk. He let out a grunt.

Ken put his pencil down and looked up at his friend. He smiled reluctantly, letting a breathy laugh escape before he continued. “I just want to be left alone.”

Daisuke’s face went long. “O-oh. I’m...”

“No. Not you. I’m talking about everybody else.” Ken picked up his pencil again and started ticking lines on the scrap paper. “Why can’t people understand we did what we did because we had no other choice? Maybe we don’t like being bothered about it every day of our lives?”

They had had this conversation countless times. Daisuke didn’t mind the attention too much--he often used it as an opportunity to share his stories and educate people about the relationships they should have with their digimon and the Digital World. But Ken was a private person. When he was a kid, he had the obligation to take the limelight, but he was an adult now. All he wanted to do was to turn that light and have it focused on somebody else.

Daisuke swallowed the last bit of snacks and put his video game on the table. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“... Yeah.”

“Well? Damn, Ichijouji. You’re boring me here.”

“Somebody… Remembered.”

Daisuke hummed.

“More specifically, a partner of somebody remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

“What I did.”

“What… You…” Daisuke stopped himself as he was about to finish. He realized what Ken was talking about. The Kaiser predated the Million Points of Light Incident, and was largely unknown to the masses. That was until Takeru started publishing articles about his adventures in the Digital World. His most recent piece started the unveiling of the tyrant, making the long forgotten connection between the “Kaiser” and the already household name of “Ichijouji Ken”.

Boy, was Daisuke ever furious with Takeru. Discussions about the Kaiser were handled with care. It was a dirty laundry topic people didn’t have to know, and Takeru _certainly_ should have asked for permission first. Magazine rolled up and in hand, he dragged Ken to the chosen of hope’s apartment to have a few words. Words he was hoping would turn physical.

“Yo, Takaishi! The _fuck_!?” Daisuke was heated, and his knuckles were red from pounding on the blond’s door. Ken stood behind him, hands wringing nervously. He didn’t want to be here, but Daisuke had _really_ insisted.

Takeru stood in the crack of his apartment’s doorway, his eyebrow raised. “Daisuke-kun? I _don’t_ appreciate you cussing at me. Especially when it’s ten at night. At my doorstep.”

Daisuke threw up his arms with a dramatic roar. He unfurled the magazine and waved it in front of the other’s face. “Your article! How about you explain that to me! Then maybe I can fucking…” Daisuke breathed as Ken timidly wrapped a hand around his arm to try to calm him down. He shook his head as his hands flexed, the papers of the magazine crumpling under his aggravation.

“What? What the hell are you--”

“You dense mother fucker--”

“Motomiya, please…” Ken pleaded. He so didn’t want to he here. He wanted to leave. “It’s not a big deal. Please.”

“You’ll wake my neighbors, idiot. Damn. Ichijouji, what the hell is he on about?”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. Please forgive us.”

The red-head stomped forward, his shoulders raising as his hands balled into fists. He may have been several inches shorter than his companions, but he could pack a bite to match his bark. “ _No_! You always! You always…!”

“I always _what_?” Takeru’s chest was puffing out, and he was about to step out onto the terrace. He wasn’t afraid to exchange punches with his childhood friend.

Daisuke’s eyebrows knit. Without hesitation, he threw the magazine at Takeru’s door. It fluttered to the ground, spine down, and pages sprawled open at the man’s feet. “Just! Just think about your friends before you write those kinds of things.” Roughly, he grabbed Ken’s arm and walked off without turning back, even when he heard the man slam the door shut behind them.

If only they knew! If they knew how much of a struggle it was. It was a struggle most of the other chosen children had _no idea_ about. Most of Ken’s teenage years were spent _truly_ coming to terms with his past. It was a process that required several patiently long nights of talking and hand holding and embraces to get to a resolution. But it was always going to be a scab. If it was picked enough it would bleed. And Ken was afraid he’d never be able to stop picking if given the chance.

Ken pressed his pencil hard into the paper until the lead snapped. He frowned as he continued. “The hurt in the woman’s eyes, Dai. She said I made her Elecmon fight… To the death.” The grip on his pencil was tighter, his lips shaking with remorse. “I did that. And now everybody knows. Everybody. It’s not just that I helped saved the world--it’s that I’m part of the reason it had to be saved at all.”

The other chosen puckered his lips, his eyebrows upturned in concern. “You… You know that wasn’t you.” The Kaiser wasn’t Ken, just as much as Ken wasn’t the Kaiser.

“But they remember. They remember. I _did_ those things. I can’t believe it. It… Feels like a dream now… But I did it.”

“It wasn’t you. It never was. The only thing you have in common with the Kaiser was that you both shared the same body. You’ll always have the past following you, but you’ve taught yourself to handle it. You know I’m right.”

Ken put his forehead in his palm. Any hopes of doing his homework now was out of the question. “I know…”

“Ken.” Daisuke reached across the table and put his hand on the man’s arm. “You’ve _never_ been that way. _Ever_. I feel for those digimon and their partners. I do. But they didn’t know what really happened. They don’t _need_ to know. I get that you want to feel bad, and hell, you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. But don’t... Don’t forget who you really are.”

“Who am I?” The dark-haired man was starting to feel the stress of a panic closing in on him like a narrowing tunnel. “Who am I if I wasn’t that?”

“You’re Ken. You’re smart, strong, rational, beautiful, wonderful, and, let’s get real, sucky at video games. And I would never, ever change anything about you. Not even all that bad crap. You’re _my_ Ken.”

Daisuke always had the right words. His power to talk him down from ledges was astounding. He had more lives than a cat at this point. “Dai…”

“Yeah?”

“I…”

Ken was never the one to think of relationships. For two years he lived alone in his apartment. The routine was simple--wake up, go to class, come home, study, cook dinner, relax, and sleep. A few nights a week, Daisuke would come over to change the routine slightly--he would be the one to cook, they would do activities together, and he would sleep on his futon in the living room... Ken enjoyed it. It was safe. Familiar. Suitable.

So it surprised him when he let it slip between his lips with such feeling and truth--where he noticed that it had changed its meaning to him over the course of a few seconds… That he wanted it to be more than what it had ever meant before. “I love you.”

“I love you too, dude. So, just… Cheer up, aight?”

Ken’s cheeks heated up, suddenly ashamed that he even ever expected Daisuke to notice. It was such a familiar phrase between them--because they really did love each other--but this was something different. He nodded quickly and played with the pencil within his hands, not even noticing that Daisuke had gotten up to lean over the table in order to place a kiss on his forehead. Confused, Ken looked into his friend’s deep eyes. They squinted back at him with a gentle smile, as if he was shielding them from the brightness that Ken brought into his life.

His heart would have jumped out through his throat if Daisuke’s lips weren’t sealing its escape.

Oh, it was warm. And sweet. And between the bittersweet taste of chocolate was the delicious taste of Daisuke. Inside his chest bloomed a feeling he’d never felt before. It washed across his face, down his chest, and to his toes. Hesitantly, he brought his hands up to rest on either side of his friend’s face. He scratched lightly along the scruff of Daisuke’s jaw as the other man taught Ken how to move his mouth. After all, even though he was twenty-two, it was Ken’s first kiss.

Daisuke parted their lips, his entire body resting on his arms across the table, and pressed his forehead to Ken’s. Even with his darker complexion, his own blush was more than visible. Ken’s thumbs rubbed gently across Daisuke’s chin--he wasn’t sure if that’s what he was supposed to do, but it felt like the right thing to do. “I’ve wanted to… Do that for a _really_ long time.” Daisuke admitted.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Ken was confused at the notion, but he instantly fogged his own mind as his lips grazed against Daisuke’s.

“Ken…” His friend breathed out, shaky and heavy, as he leaned further across table to capture Ken’s lips again--this time with more hunger than before. Ducking his head, Ken shied away from his partner, Daisuke’s lips trailing across his cheek. His face was on fire, and he moved his hands to cover them sheepishly. However, Daisuke read it as a boundary. “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The child of friendship set back into his seat, one hand balled in his mess of hair. “S-shit.”

Ken looked up, his mouth slightly ajar--and a little numb? “N-no. Dai. It was…”

It was _great_. As like so much of their relationship that was to follow, and what had come before. It was a gift he never knew he wanted, but was something he had always yearned for.

Daisuke was it.

Daisuke was his.

The empty apartment made it so hard to remember how it even came to be that way. With so many great memories with Daisuke--why was he alone now? Ken placed a hand on the back of the dining room table’s chair. He didn’t feel like cooking or studying or doing much of anything. Instead, it would just be another night to think of his mistakes. All of them. His mistakes with Osamu. His mistakes as the Kaiser. The mistakes with Daisuke.

He let fear win over him again, and he felt like he lost it all. He had hoped that Daisuke would have stayed, for him and for them. Childishly, he thought Daisuke would do anything for him, just like he always did. How selfish, stupid, and cowardly was he? Now the other man wasn’t even answering his emails, let alone talking to him. Nothing hurt as bad as this. Nothing.

And for what? Ken was afraid. He was afraid of disappointing his family. His friends. Himself. If he stayed with Daisuke...

Oh, but what did it matter? He fucked up.

He fucked up.

Sliding into the chair, the same chair where he shared his first kiss, the same chair where Daisuke would serve him dinner, the same chair where he told Daisuke he wasn’t going to follow… He laid his head in the folds of his arms and cried silently, wishing he had the same courage his friend had--so he could have followed when it mattered most.


	5. Turn Around

It was Daisuke that was the first to notice his feelings.

Not that that was a surprise. In terms of who was more intune with their emotional sides, it had always been Daisuke.

Everybody knew that Daisuke and Ken were inseparable. The genesis was simple to trace back to, and was a sentiment only six other people in the world understood. Jogress evolution connected hearts and minds of two people in ways nothing else could. Its greatest magic was the ability to transcend the Digital World and apply the same connection on a physical plane. Better than that--once establishing the relation, _everything_ between the jogress pair… Changed.

Emotions. Emotions could be read through the air, almost tangibly, as if through sign language. Words held new meaning. Body language spoke more visibly. The closer in proximity the other was, the easier it was to ascertain how the other was feeling. Lying was certainly out of the question, and intense flares of emotions can easily off-kilter the other. And when there was a shared feeling, it was multiplied two fold, where it would take the strength of both partners to lift above the sometimes crushing weight of an emotion.

Touch. Touch became a whole body experience. A soft palm on a bare arm could feel like an electric shock. Not to say that all contact was dangerous or uncomfortable, it was just what one person felt, the other felt.… Where the echoes of their touch bounced between the empty space between their atoms. At times, the affected area would tingle for awhile until the molecules came to rest, leaving a warm sensation lingering like an pleasant bruise.

So even if they may, at a glance, appear to have little in common, the sets of paired children had come to terms with what “jogress” mean to them. They all struggled at times, but they could all agree it had become a piece of them they would never change.

Taichi and Yamato were the first of the jogress pairs, and actually were affected slightly differently than the others. It may have been because they didn’t have the newer digivices, but they weren’t able to feel the same sort of connections in the Real World as they could in the Digital World. However, when Omnimon first appeared, they were connected in heart and mind, and together with their digimon were able to defeat Diaboromon with the ease of synchronicity.

It had always been easy for Hikari and Miyako. Maybe it was because they were female, maybe it was because had already enjoyed each other’s company before it happened… But they struggled the least out of the couples. If anything, it brought them closer, where they made conscious efforts to hang out more. Through it, they found more common ground, and even eventually became college roommates.

Iori and Takeru were uncomfortable with it at first, pleased with the fact that their age allowed them physical space for extended amounts of time. However, they eventually came around as they both grew into their own emotions. On occasion, they could be seen smiling at each other silently, as if they were telepathically gossiping about those around them, when really they just grew very akin to slight changes in each other’s body language.

Daisuke and Ken… Well, Daisuke and Ken were the whole spectrum. They shared hobbies. They reveled in other’s emotions. They trusted each other deeply. They never shied away from touching each other. Their relationship had always been abnormal in the idea of what a friendship _should_ have been. Especially, at the beginning, when Ken struggled with himself, Daisuke had always been there. Both hands together, Daisuke would sit cross-legged across from Ken, his friend’s head bowed and lost within himself with nothing but silence filling the room. Occasionally, Daisuke would run gentle thumbs across ridges of linear scabs, his heart feeling just as heavy and lost as his friend’s. Silently, with wordless pleading, he wanted Ken to love himself as much as he loved him.

Daisuke had always believed that they needed to be close in order to anchor Ken. It wasn’t that Ken was helpless--he was smart and capable of doing anything. But it was almost addicting: with each squeeze of a hand or a rest of a head on a shoulder… He could feel the negativity within Ken seep out. The gogglehead felt like he was making a difference in his friend’s life. To say he hadn’t would have been a fallacy.

So, the feeling crept in. After years of unprofessional therapy from one messed up boy to another, it scared and confused Daisuke when he felt like he didn’t want it to be platonic anymore. It was quiet discomfort, like a pebble in a shoe, that lasted a long time before it solidified. And just like any love story begins, it came during a completely natural and normal part of their friendship.

It was Ken’s twentieth birthday, and Daisuke was determined to show him the ropes of being an adult--despite being a few months younger than him. “Ken, come on.” He coaxed an open bottle of beer at his friend. “Mr. Rules doesn’t even want to do it when it’s legal, huh?”

Daisuke was a good person, but he allowed himself to stray from “right” and “wrong” at times, especially if it meant he was rebelling against his parents. He had been a social drinker for several years, and enjoyed the happenstantial side-effect of de-stressing. Having opted out of college and struggling to find trustworthy friends that hadn’t also helped him save the world… It just helped him to unwind. And now, it was Ken’s turn to de-stress. He was almost done his undergraduate, and Daisuke was almost positive the young man had never been out in a public place without him.

“I really don’t want to.”

“Just one sip, you baby!” They were both sitting on the edge of Ken’s bed in his brand new apartment. Very little else had been unpacked as classes for the second term had started just a few weeks prior. It was nice having a private space with his friend now--especially because it made it easier for him to drink with good company.

“What would I gain from it?” Ken asked, noticeably getting frustrated.

“I dunno. Relaxation? Yummy tastes? Uh… The end?” Daisuke took a chug from the bottle he had meant to give to Ken. Concerned, he looked at both bottles at eye level, unsure of exactly what he had done. Perhaps starting the celebrations early may not have been the best idea, he thought.

Ken moved off of the bed and left to go into the living room. “I’m done, Daisuke.”

Daisuke leaped up and shuffled after his friend, “Nooo. Ken~” He whined, his arms extended, ready to wrap around his jogress partner. Ken shifted aside, watching as his friend failed to register the change in time. As Daisuke went to go through to the next room, his toe caught on the moulding and stumbled. One, two, three staggered steps and Daisuke found himself spinning until finally gaining his balance again. “Nice save, Motomiya.” He said to himself with a relieved sigh.

Ken watched as Daisuke’s face turned from proud, to emotionless, to confused, and then to embarrassment.

Looking down at his shirt, Daisuke finally noticed that he had, in fact, not been as graceful as he had originally imagined. With each stumble, he managed to splash beer from the two bottles in his hands onto his shirt and pants. At that point, the bottles were near empty, and he was nothing but a hoppy, smelly mess. A deep blush crossed his cheeks. “Oooohhh… Noooo~~”

Ken walked back over to his friend and placed his hands around both of Daisuke’s. “Motomiya, you’re hopeless, you know?” He took a bottle from his friend, but left his other hand still on his friend’s.

Daisuke looked up at him with large, brown eyes. “I just want you to have some fun, for once.”

“Who’s to say I don’t have fun?”

“Me.”

Ken raised an eyebrow and held the bottle up. Shaking its contents, he sighed with a headshake. “Will it shut you up?”

“You know as much as I do that that’s not going to happen. But it might work for like two seconds.”

“Maybe.”

“Probably not.”

And it started as it always did. A soft rumble in his throat between thin lips. Then, a flash of brilliant white teeth as his mouth parted slightly to roll out the deep chuckle Daisuke had always loved--regardless of its depth in sound. Ken’s laugh meant so many things to him, and at that moment it was the most sobering agent he had ever experienced.

It had been eight years since they became friends. It has been several months since Daisuke began realizing that Ken may have meant more to him than before… But it was that _damn_ smile.

That smile made him want to stay. Forever. To drink it up every day, to be the reason it was to ever exist, to see it every morning and night… To watch it form after his lips were there. To have it be his after a passion he had, at that time, only in his dreams...

Daisuke took back his hand, the warmth of Ken lingering on the backs of his fingers, leaving them numb as if the circulation had been cut off. He rubbed the knuckle of his thumb against his breastbone with a frown, the heat in his cheeks making him feel like he wanted to faint. “S-so…” Daisuke struggled to get his words out--it felt like his throat was constricting under the realization… The fear that Ken may find out his feelings was the worst thing he could imagine.

“So.” Ken said, still jovial and ignorant. “A toast?” He tipped the neck of his bottle toward his friend’s.

“A… Toast?”

“A toast for me being as cool as Motomiya Daisuke.”

Daisuke breathed out a laugh as best he could. His voice caught his throat, as if he was going through puberty all over again. “F-Fat chance, Ichijouji Ken.”

_Clang_.

Daisuke had learned later, much later, that although they were arguably one of the most insync pairs of jogress partners… Ken was luckily--and often times frustratingly--unaware of the feeling of “love”. The dark-haired man was capable of doing it himself, but was nearly incapable of reading it when others had it for him.

“ _That_ was when you realized you loved me?” Ken said, his fingers laced between Daisuke’s, the smaller man resting his head on his chest.

“Dude, shut up.” Daisuke buried his face in Ken’s shirt, shifting his body closer to his partner’s. The couch was their favorite place to cuddle, but it was annoyingly lacking in space.

“No, no. It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“‘Ey! Am not!” Ken kissed the top of Daisuke’s head, his arm drawing the man in so close that their hearts beat out for eachother. “I was…” Daisuke hesitated, his other hand grabbing at the cloth on the taller one’s shoulder. “I was scared, y’know.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because what if you never felt the same way back? I had almost given up…”

“I’m sorry.” It was hard for Ken to imagine a life before this--before nothing was off limits and they were as much themselves as they were each other. “You have always been… Patient with me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Ken.”

“Dai…”

They both knew it was true, because they both could feel the sincerity in his voice. Just like how Daisuke could feel the bubble of sweet affection grow and burst with each pulse of Ken’s heart. “But, I wouldn’t have given up on us. I’ve never loved anything as much as I love you...” He tried to eat through his own cheese. “But even if you didn’t love me back…”

“It’s okay.” Ken drew his hands up the sides of Daisuke’s body, until they were gently cupping the sides of his partner’s face. The chosen of miracles looked up at him, a weak smile on his face. Even after the months of being more than just friends, Daisuke was still afraid of it all disappearing. “I do.”

Rubbing his cheek against the comfort of Ken’s touch, Daisuke shifted his body so he was straddling the man. Smiling down, he took his partner’s lips, wet and soft and wanting, until he had to come back up for air. “I’ll never stop, you know.” His thumbs caressed the spot between Ken’s neck and shoulder. “You know that, right?”

“I’ll never stop, either.” His partner was the one to bring them together, their mouths connecting and forming a channel for which a sea of bliss could swell. Because so often it was hard to not need each other… The closeness was exhilarating and comforting and protective. When there was no barrier between yourself and somebody else, it was hard to imagine being anywhere else… Because anywhere else would simply not exist.

And every day… Every day felt like that. The phrase repeating in his head and on his tongue: ”I’ll never stop.” It was a promise Daisuke hadn’t given up, but all too often he wish he had.

Baring his teeth in the mirror, Daisuke looked himself over. He was older now--closer to thirty than twenty. Someday soon, he’d be expected to settle down and have a family and do that sort of thing he had never given much thought to. Maybe someday he could release his promise, maybe actually _start_ a life with Tatum and live the rest of his days as a successful business owner, father, and husband. Maybe it had always been written that way--a fate he was never meant to escape.

So who was the man that was looking back at him? With one finger, he traced a line under his eye. Darker than when they were when he was younger--sadder than he had ever remembered them being. Creases had started to softly form along his mouth, the stubble along his cheeks and his jaw having been largely unkept for a week.

Today, he’d have to figure something out. No longer could he run after a shadow from his past. Today was the day he’d have to turn around and see a person he recognized. A person that could survive. A person that would be fine without a man that couldn’t follow.

He’d be fine without Ken.

He’d be fine.

He’d be...


	6. Start Over

For some reason, Ken had decided to take a left instead of a right that day. The theories of chaos had certainly showed up to play game that morning.

The confines of his apartment had suffocated him for too long. Restlessly, he left for work an hour early, deciding to take an alternate route to clear his head. There was a new cafe along the way he had been meaning to check out, though he supposed seven months wasn’t very new anymore. He wanted to go with Daisuke, but they just never got around to it before he...

It had been unseasonably warm for the fall, but the morning were still cool enough for layered clothing. Besides his light cashmere sweater, he had a matching patterned scarf thrown across his shoulder, along with his briefcase at hand. He allowed a faint smile to remain on his face as he walked the sidewalks to his destination--the brisk smell of dying leaves tickling his nose. It was early still, and the pinky hues of the rising sun turned the trees around him into boxes of highlighter markers: fluorescent and vibrant.

The outside of the bakery was quaint yet unapologetic. It was decorated with a variety of quirky windchimes, pinwheels, and statues. Inside, the walls were heavily decorated with random ornaments and posters, giving the little cafe a vintage yet hip appeal. The fragrance of coffee and tea hung in the air, thick like a fog, that was surely going to stick to his clothing. The line was nearly out the door, but Ken figured he had the time to wait. He’d come this far already.

“Ken-kun?”

It took until the second time for Ken to react.

“Hey! It _is_ Ken-kun!” The man didn’t even have the time to turn around before the woman was wrapping her arms awkwardly around him. His mind slowly processed what was happening, the woman detaching herself from him, a bagel and coffee juggled uncomfortably in her hands, made more difficult by the large handbag slung over her shoulder.

“M… Miyako-san?”

“Ah-huh! Wow! It’s been _months_ , Ken-kun! Wow! I can’t believe you’re here! What are you doing in this part of town? It’s _so_ early! Shit, it’s seriously been like _five months_. Tell me tell me tell me: what’s up!?”

Ken pointed at the line he was in, having a hard time shaking himself into a conversational mood. He wasn’t expecting to see anybody he knew. “Getting breakfast.”

Miyako’s face drew long, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked to where his finger was pointing. “Uh-huh,” she looked at the food in her hands before producing a smile again. “No kidding. Well fine, I’ll leave you to it.” Her tone was tart and slightly offended, but she was used to Ken’s moods. It was just unfortunate that it appeared he was in one today.

As she was about to leave, Ken grabbed her by the arm and said, “Miyako-san. Find us a seat, will you?” He mustered the best smile he could, though it wasn’t nearly half as good as the one on her face.

Moments later, Ken had his food in hand and looked around the small cafe to locate his friend. It wasn’t difficult--his invitation to sit with Miyako had her more than excited, and both of her hands were up and eagerly waving him over. Fluidly, he slid into his chair and placed his plate and mug of coffee on the table and rested his briefcase to his side.

Before his butt was firmly in his chair, Miyako was already chatting away. “Ken, Ken, Ken,” the formality leaving as she had her friend with her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Ken settled in, his arms resting on the table, a wary smile on his lips. “You’re fine, Miyako-san. I’m very glad to see you. It’s funny. I never liked coffee before, but now I need it to even function.” He tried his best to pass off a valid laugh. He hoped Miyako wouldn’t notice the strain.

“I practically have it on an IV drip.” She responded, a genuine chuckle following her words. “It’s so weird seeing you here, though! I come here every morning and have never seen you!”

“I just wanted a change of pace,” Ken said, his fingers working to pick apart his croissant. “I suppose it was a good thing.”

Miyako nodded. “Yes.” She found herself struggling to find something to talk about. It really had been a long time since she had even heard from him… It had been right around the time Daisuke had left to America. “You’re looking good. Are you letting your hair grow out?”

Flushing, Ken placed a piece of his pastry on his tongue, letting its thin buttery texture melt in the heat of his mouth. “I…” He honestly hadn’t noticed his hair until she mentioned it, but he hadn’t had a haircut in almost a year. It was reaching his shoulders at this point. “It wasn’t intentional.” He tucked the fronts of his hair behind his ears and ate another chunk from his meal.

Miyako had been nursing a black coffee and warm muffin as they talked. She talked with a full mouth, her hands waving at herself to finish chewing before speaking, but began speaking anyway. “It looks great! It’s just--” she paused to swallow, “It’s just been awhile, y’know. And I didn’t want to like miss out that you had it growing out or if it had always been like that. But whatever, it looks good!” She popped another piece of muffin in her mouth and finished it before continuing. “It’s so funny, I was thinking about you this week.”

“Oh?” Ken was actually surprised that anybody had thought about him at all anymore.

“Yeah! Isn’t your birthday in a couple of weeks?” Miyako’s eyes lit up. She loved birthdays, she was just terrible at dates. As she was aging, she was actually starting to forget her own, at times.

Ken had to think for a moment. It was September. A few weeks into a September, actually. And… “It’s tomorrow.” He said, with a bit of surprise in his voice.

“What!?”

“Y-yeah.” He found himself chuckling. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Oh no! Ken! How are we supposed to get everybody together now? That’s too short notice! Maybe this weekend. People might already have plans, though.” Miyako had abandoned her food at this point. “And with Daisuke in America, we’ll probably have to do something in the Digital World, I guess.” She sighed a flustered sigh, her eyes wide and looking at Ken for answers.

The mention of Daisuke’s name brought an urgent need to dispel any plans. “Miyako-san, please.” He found himself resting his hand on her arm. “I don’t need anything.”

“But Ken--”

“Really.”

Miyako’s cheeks puffed with frustration, her gaze threatening to turn into a glare. “We miss you, you know.”

Ken brought his hand back and tapped the side of his now empty plate. There had been a few text messages exchanged between himself and the other chosen children over the past few months. Emails. Phone calls. Faint promises of meetings that never occurred. How bitterly ironic it was that the reason why he stayed in Japan had largely been to remain alone. “I miss you all too.”

“So we should do something!”

“No, please.” He looked at her, begging her for peace. She was always stubborn, but she had a heart just as big as his, and she was all but well intentioned. “If you really want to do something then…” He thought for a moment, unsure if he was being too bold, but not too sure if he cared. If it got her mind off of involving the others, it was worth it. “Let’s go to dinner tomorrow?”

This was a good enough solution for her. With a nod and, soon after, a farewell, they parted ways. A strange bubble of joy prickled Ken’s skin as he left the little cafe. It had a residual effect throughout the day, making him feel almost giddy as he continued through his work day.

In truth, he had always been pretty good friends with female jogress pair. Hikari was his Dark Ocean sister--the only other one out of the original chosen that truly understood the overwhelming lure of the darkness within their own hearts. He had had his struggles with Miyako, but they smoothed out with age. It wasn’t uncommon to find them together, noses deep inside of their laptops, wordlessly producing code that threatened to bend the very structure of the Digital World. Each stroke of the keyboard one character closer to outdo the other in a competition they never agreed to have.

She was smart in a quick and inventive way. She was pretty in a reserved and dorky way. She was stubborn, honest, and bubbly--her energy akin to his best friend’s. But she had always been refreshing in her general inability to hold her tongue, and she was always up to challenge Ken intelligently and emotionally. In terms of rank, she was often found in his top three favorite chosen children.

With a fresh pressed suit, golden cufflinks adorning his sleeves, a solid silken tie around his neck, and a black ribbon pulling his hair back into a ponytail--Ken was appropriately dressed for his first date in over a year. He was nervous but excited. Over the past twenty-four hours, he had a lot to think on. It wasn’t until he had Daisuke in his life did he realize how little he liked having a solid routine. It was painfully boring and predictable. The proposition of spontaneity returning to his life was exciting. He was so glad he had gone to the cafe the day before.

“Ken-kun. My word.” Miyako said as they met outside of the French restaurant. Ken didn’t want to pick the exact place, but asked for it not to be Japanese cuisine. It was upscale and very expensive, and Miyako did not disappoint with her attire. Although it was a simple cut, the cream knee length dress she wore accentuated her rosy skin and pale brown, almost pinkish, hair. The necklace she wore was bright purple--a color that brought out the sweet carmel of her eyes. “You look handsome.” She said, the burgundy on her lips making them stick out like two rose petals under the dim street lighting.

“Miyako-san…” Ken couldn’t help but smile at her. It was as if they had done this all before, never once skipping a beat. Perhaps it was energy she exuded that felt so natural. He felt a craving for it somewhere in the back of his mind.

Miyako rolled her eyes as she took her date by the arm. “Enough of the formalities, Ken.”

“Right.”

They were both seated at their table. The decor and table arrangements gave an air of loftiness. As they were handed their tall menus to review, Miyako attempted to peer over the top of hers and say, “Sure is fancy, huh?”

Ken tilted his menu down to look at his date. “I’ve been to worse.”

“Ah yes, of course you have. Ichijouji Ken has always been rather privileged.”

“Are you being rude, Inoue Miyako?”

Miyako down cast her eyes, her mouth still hidden by the menu, but the smile was easily seen in her eyes and carried on her voice. “Of course not, sir. I am simply stating a fact.”

Ken hummed, lifting his menu again to try to make a selection. “I suppose you wouldn’t be far from the truth, though. Not that it hasn’t had its difficulties.” Miyako knew exactly what he was talking about. All the chosen children were famous to a point now, but Ken had seniority in that field. His genius status didn’t help anything either. “I guess this means I will just have to buy dinner tonight.”

Miyako slapped her menu down to the table, nearly spilling the wine glass full of artesian water--a feat made impossible by her scramble to upright it before it tipped. With her mouth pinched small, she looked up at Ken wide-eyed, the glass cradled within her fingers as she set it steady on the table again. After a few seconds, the pair of them chuckled softly to the other, their child-like interactions having clearly been stunted even after all these years. “Fuck.” She whispered.

“ _Miyako_.”

“Hey!” Her voice was still hushed. “I can’t say ‘fuck’ now?” They both giggled again, her voice returning to a normal volume as she closed the menu. “But wait, no. It’s your birthday. Birthday boys don’t buy their own meals.”

“This one does.”

“No. He doesn’t. And that’s that!” Ken let the subject drop as the waiter came to take their orders. Ken ordered some weird thing made out of livers and Miyako ordered a thing she couldn’t pronounce. When their food arrived, Ken pounced on the chance to tease her.

“It’s ‘bluh’. Like… ‘Bluhhhh that’s gross’.” Ken was smiling. Uncontrollably.

“Blouuu.” Miyako’s tongue was rolling out of her mouth as she said it.

“Bluh.”

“Bloh.”

“Bluh.”

Miyako shook her head in frustration. Her lightly curled hair bouncing across her face. The absence of her glasses allowed Ken to really see how plump her cheeks were and how much they accentuated her eyes when they were red. “I don’t get it. I don’t hear it. How are you so good at languages anyway?”

“It’s nothing.” Ken took a careful drink from his wine glass with contents that now matched. The dark liquid rested across his tongue before he allowed it to slide down his throat. “It’s easy, really.”

“Listen to you.” She said in disbelief. “I bet you’re fluent in everything.”

“Now you’re just being insane.” Ken allowed his teeth to show past curled lips. “I’m just really good at English.”

“Ah yeah.” Miyako trailed off, wanting badly to connect the subject. She was about to let it go, but she couldn’t. She’d ask for forgiveness later. “Was that for America?”

Ken stopped mid cut through is foie grois, his focus on the delicate plating of his meal as he struggled hard to find the words. “I had an interest before that.” It wasn’t a lie. He was already at near fluent level before he even started dating Daisuke. English was an important language to know in terms of talking with the world. He just ended up having more of a reason to care about it in the past few years.

Miyako didn’t know why he didn’t go to America, but she knew that Ken and Daisuke weren’t talking anymore. And they had been inseparable for so long, that it was hard for her and all the other chosen to watch at times. “What… Happened?”

“Miyako-san,” Ken pleaded, his formality returning as he wished to remove the subject from the table. He was enjoying himself so much before it came out.

“That Daisuke…” Miyako started.

“Miyako-san, _please_.”

Miyako’s eyes went wide as she placed her fork down. The corners of her mouth twitched. She felt stupid--upset that she let her mouth run without her as she often did. It wasn’t her place to pry, no matter how much she craved gossip. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… Okay.” He looked at her with a weak smile, trying desperately for her not to feel guilty about bringing up an uncomfortable subject. “I…” Being with Miyako this night, on his birthday, had been the best thing that happened to him in the past five months. The first time where things felt so unnaturally normal--where he didn’t have to feel like he had to go home to nothing but his scrutinizing self.

She was familiar in more than a few ways, and he was thankful for the great coincidence that brought them back together the day prior.

“Miyako-san.”

“Ken? Stop that.”

Ken gave up on his meal, just as he was about to give up his reserve. Because he knew he couldn’t go home to that empty apartment again. Not tonight. Not on a night that he had grown so accustomed to having a fiery counterpart--jittery and ready to please with sweets and kisses. To have his body and mind nearly worshipped by a man with cinnamon hair and a melt-worthy smile. And he just… He just didn’t want to be alone.

“May I ask you something, Miyako?”

“Hm?” Her hands folded on the table.

“Would you…” His voice hitched as his head shook. He was being dumb. So dumb.

“Would I what?”

“Would you… Come home with me?”

Miyako turned as red as a turnip. It was a heat that could only be calmed with the coolness of her hands. “Go… Home? With you?”

“I’m sorry. Forgive me. Nevermind.” His voice was hurt, but not by Miyako herself, but by his own debilitating weakness. Shame washed over him.

“I… Don’t know.”

Ken suddenly had a distinct need to clear the air of his intentions. He didn’t want to scare Miyako away--she may be the only friend he had left at this point. “I have a couch. A-and a futon. No, you can have my bed, and I’ll sleep… Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. No. Forget it. I’m so sorry.”

Miyako was silent for a few moments as she watched Ken fidget in his seat, his eyes downcast so far away from her that she may as well not existed. “Sure.” It took several seconds before the answer registered, so she said it again. “Sure, I’ll come home with you.”

Ken looked at her. There was a peace in his eyes now--on his whole demeanor. He… He couldn’t place the emotion he was feeling, but it felt great. And when they got back to his place later that night, it was there that Miyako started to silently connect the dots. It was the same address she had always sent birthday cards and party invites too, but she had never actually _been_ to Ken’s home before. As she removed her shoes before entering the apartment proper, she noticed immediately that the residence was a bit small. There was only one bedroom. The living room was meekly small, as was the kitchen. Far too small for two grown men to have been living comfortably alongside each other…

Ken turned to her as he removed his blazer jacket, and she could see it in his face. That he was telling her a secret he had held onto for the greater of part of his adult life, a secret he could never put into words for fear of having to hear it upon his own voice.

Ken and Daisuke had been _together_. And something had happened.

The weight of this knowledge dropped on Miyako like a sack of bricks. She was shocked she had never seen it before. She was unsure of what to think. It was… Weird? Though, she couldn’t be one to judge. She had her own bottle of secrets deep in her mind--the many nights that she struggled to sleep during college when she knew Hikari was but a few feet away from her. Soft. Caring. Kind. Beautiful. Moving back home for her final semester under the guise of attending to a family in financial need--when really it was because she feared she had fallen in love with her jogress partner.

At least Ken and Daisuke _had_ taken a chance.

But it wasn’t what was expected. And suddenly Miyako felt very out of place. Had they really been on a date? She felt like Ken and herself were hitting it off. She always felt like they had some sort of chemistry before he disappeared for the nearly half of the year. It couldn’t have been that. What a fool she had been.

Long arms wrapped around her, the piney scent of Ken filling her nostrils, as he drew her close to him. He was warm and comforting, and it was hard to not return the favor, regardless of the meaning. Ken was her friend, and she understood now why he wanted her here--maybe even needed her here. She felt him inhale deeply at her neck, the absence of air chilling the spot along her throat, sending a dull shiver down her back. The exhale came out shaky and broken, as his arms wrapped tighter around her.

“Thank you.” Ken whispered. Miyako wasn’t sure for what, but she simply nodded into his silken hair and squeezed him back.

They eventually found themselves on the couch, Miyako reclined between Ken’s legs as he held her. What was on the TV didn’t matter. The time didn’t matter. What they talked about didn’t matter. Eventually, Ken fell asleep, the side of his head resting against hers and his arms loosely wrapped around her body.

Together, they were two people bound by a code they wanted nothing to do with. But their loyalty to family and customs prevented them from being who they were. Placing a hand onto his, she nuzzled into the warmth of his body.

Maybe it was time to start over.


	7. Roundabout

At first it had been a crush. After all, what was Tatum supposed to do about a boy that lived halfway around the world? There had been so many of them there that night, she doubted he had even noticed her. She’d be lucky if he even _remembered_ her. Man, even the boys she saw every day at school never paid attention to her. It was hard, but she figured the chosen leader would be nothing but a faint celebrity crush--forever on her mind but never in her arms.

Tatum grew up in western New York, where her citizenship was almost as much Canadian as it was American. Growing up as an only child to a single mother forced her to be tough and independent. A flare of creativity was a side effect of her necessity of being alone. Most of her days were spent with her aunt as her mother worked overnight shifts at the hospital. During that time, she had sketchbooks upon sketchbooks of backyard drawings and nearly enough necklaces made of colorful plastic beads to last the entire year.

Tatum’s mother tended to leave gifts for her in the early morning. Pine cones, twine, pebbles--a magpie of crafting junk. Tatum took to creating elaborate centerpieces or decorations from the pieces her mother left her. So when Botamon’s egg appeared on her desk, she never thought much of it. It wasn’t until after a few weeks when the egg started to shake, and eventually crack, she realized it was more than just an oval rock with cute markings on it.

When Botamon hatched, Tatum became something. She became a _part_ of something. Although she never had the chance to go to the Digital World at that time, she _did_ have the chance to be more than herself with the help of Airdramon. When ShogunGekomon appeared at Niagara Falls, she knew exactly what she was--a chosen child. Sneaking out of the house late Christmas Eve, red shawl draped over her shoulders, she had never felt her heart race so fast while she watched Betamon digivolve for the first time. Atop her friend, she felt free and unbound by the loneliness that consumed her childhood. Out in the sky, the wind drew cold fingers against her face and whistled sweet songs in her ear. All along, the drumming of her heartbeat and the exhilarated smile across her lips drove her the long trek to New York City.

And that’s where she first saw him, where she wished there had been more time to get to know him. The fiery boy from Japan that brought all the northeastern chosen together to drive away the digital monsters. He was cute and passionate, and she wanted him so badly to look at her with that smile before he left...

It was difficult to ask for Daisuke’s email. With red cheeks, she asked Michael over the phone through stuttering vowels before finally obtaining it. For weeks, she wrote and rewrote the email, until finally Betamon clumsly clawed his way up onto her computer and pressed the enter key. She had been furious, but secretly relieved. At least the empty inbox of hers wouldn’t be because she didn’t try.

But after a couple of weeks, he had answered.

Daisuke had answered.

His star had been rising--his face was all over her local papers and news stations--how he had time to ever even answer her was some sort of miracle of a mystery. She read it over and over again, waiting for it to be some elaborate lie her mind was constructing.

Nobody ever noticed her. Nobody.

_Sure I remember you! You’re that girl that travelled all that way, right? That’s so cool! Let’s meet in the Digital World, okay?_

But she didn’t know... Nobody ever noticed him, either. Nobody.

Their first meeting was timid and shy and a little bit awkward. Daisuke never really paid attention in English class, and Tatum only knew a few general phrases of Japanese. But eventually, a friendship grew--their interest in comics and art being able to cross the gap of what their spoken word could not. Eventually, Daisuke asked her to be his girlfriend, and she had accepted without hesitation. So, for Daisuke’s sixteenth birthday, they pooled funds to get him back to visit America.

“Awww, I’m bored.” Daisuke said, stretching out on the train car. The train from Buffalo to New York City was longer than he expected. He could travel most of Japan by train in the time it took to travel a few hundred miles in America.

Tatum rolled her eyes and sat back with Botamon in her lap. “I told you it was a long ride.”

“Yeah, but this is _really_ long! I wanna be there already!” He loved New York City, and he was excited to spend it with his first ever girlfriend. Plus, it was Christmas time, and he only got to passively see the city in all its holiday cheer the last time he was there.

“God, you’re so annoying.”

Daisuke puffed his cheeks and glared at his girlfriend. “ _Excuse_ me? You invited _me_ here.”

“You heard me.” Tatum smiled coyly. “We’ll be there in a couple of hours. So just shut up.”

Daisuke was about to get mad, but Tatum had laid her head on his shoulder, and he nearly melted on the spot. She was a smartass, that’s for sure, but that was part of the reason he liked her so much. He supposed he just gravitated to the type--Ken had certainly grown into quite a sassy young man.

The first night they ended up in front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. In one of Daisuke’s hand was Tatum, and in the other, a bag full of nerdy gifts they bought each other. They stood in front of the square, taking in the Christmas music and the white noise of the crowd. Finally, Tatum tugged on his hand, forcing his attention to her. “Davis,” Tatum said, almost in a whisper. Her shoulder pressed against his, and she started to shift her body to face him. Between them was a haze of their own breath, laboring as the excitement of teenage hormones peaked between them both.

“Tatum?” Daisuke was unconsciously tilting his head. He could smell the mint of her bubble gum, the scent gaining a chilly edge on the winter air. Before she could answer, and before he could say anything else, their lips met. For a few moments, they were cold, until the heat of their breath and the gentle motions of the lips warmed up and filled their chests with adrenaline. Hesitantly, Daisuke brought his arms up and stepped into Tatum, their bodies close as they experimented with introducing tongues into their kissing.

It wasn’t their first kiss. But it meant something different than all the others. Like the historic tension of their first meeting in New York resounding ten fold to cook the feelings of attraction into those of love. It was hard to not enjoy and notice the differences between the digital world and real world interactions. There was something more _definitive_ about being together in actual matter and space.

Keeping a focus on their visit to the city became more and more difficult. They were staying with Tatum’s aunt who had moved to the city a couple of years prior. After exploring the city, Daisuke found himself sneaking into Tatum’s room. Underneath the covers of her bed, they allowed their mouths and hands to explore each other for the first time. There were soft giggles and quiet panting--their bodies not used to the feeling of somebody else’s hands on them. Each touch brought them closer and closer to breaking the final barrier.

It was on the third night that, with their bodies naked and pressing against each other, they couldn’t contain their curious urges anymore. “Can we?” Daisuke said, his voice coming out shaky with need. His caramel skin was tinted red, embarrassed that he asked, and too flustered to contain the shaking of his muscles. He kissed Tatum, along her jaw and up to her ear, until his nose was breathing in the strawberries of her blonde hair. “Please.”

They had talked about it. They had been dating long distance for over a year. If they were going to lose their virginity, they were happy it was going to be to each other. Tatum hummed, her hand running up the side of Daisuke’s body. He was trim and toned, his years of continued athleticism keeping him fit. Her body was was ready for him, as she had proven at the end of his fingertips. Her breasts were perky and sore from her boyfriend’s continued attention to them, but she just found herself arching habitually into him with every move he made.

She wanted him. He wanted her. And that notion alone drove them both crazy.

“Y-yeah.” Tatum nodded, rubbing her cheek against his, a nervous laugh coaxing its way out of her.

From there it was a mad rush to find the condom Daisuke had tucked away in his wallet, his hands shaking as he rolled it down his member, shivering and gasping as Tatum took to licking the shell of his ear. “S-stooop.” He pled, pushing the girl gently to the bed.

He remembered. He’d always remember the look on her face. Calm, loving, needy, content, trusting… How he deserved such a gaze was beyond him. Would anybody ever believe that such an angel allowed him to be within her presence, let alone _touch_ her?

Daisuke rubbed himself against her, stimulating her clit enough to make her whine, his arms going wobbly under the sounds of his soon-to-be-lover’s voice. He pressed forward, failing to enter her wetness, until he finally had to guide himself in… The tightness and warmth causing him to moan behind closed eyes.

That was, until Tatum slapped her hands across her mouth as an uncomfortable screech seeped from her throat. Daisuke gasped, unsure of what to do, because he felt so good and in his mind, he didn’t want to stop, and almost couldn’t stop… But she was hurting? And what had he done? What... “T-Tatum, babe, what’s…”

She shook her head, her eyes pinched shut. She let her hands fall, her face contorted as her teeth grit tightly. “It… It fucking hurts.”

“I’ll go slow…? Okay?” There was silence until she nodded again, and he tried to move deeper only to watch that beautiful longing face continue to shrivel and descend into more pain.

Not wanting to risk it anymore, Daisuke withdrew and softly dropped down to lay next to her. She had since pulled the sheets over her head, struggling slightly to roll to her side, but Daisuke prevented her from doing so. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled the sheet down and kissed her cheek, feeling and tasting the salty trail of tears. Wrapping an arm around her, he nuzzled his face into her neck.

This was the last thing he wanted to do. Sex was supposed to be about enjoyment and happiness… Not pain. Tatum was so beautiful and strong and smart. His life was filled with those that doubted him and thought he was stupid and incapable. And worse now, he had blind followers that thought him to be everything he wasn’t. However, Tatum saw him for who he was. _Believed_ in him. Wanted to _be_ around him. He didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to do anything. He was just Daisuke.

And hurting her hurt him so badly he just… He found himself crying silently onto the pillow beside her as he whispered again, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tatum shook her head. “No… No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I… Ruined this.” She withdrew into herself, her hand covering the shame on her face that Daisuke couldn’t even see.

“It’s not your fault! Oh, Tatum…” Daisuke held her so close in fear that she would disappear if he let go. “I… I love you. I don’t ever want to...”

“Daisuke…” Tatum’s hand came up and rested on his. She rarely ever used his real name, and she squeezed his hand as she said it again, “Daisuke. I… Love you too.”

“We’ll go slower next time… I promise.” Daisuke said, kissing the back of her head.

She nodded as she sighed. She was disappointed in her body for working against her, but emotionally, she felt as if she was floating on a cloud. The warmth of Daisuke’s love kept her safe and content--for it was the first time they had confessed their love, and the rest… Well, the rest could just be worked on later.

“Go slow, Dai-chan.” Ken breathed. The boy of kindness was on his back, dark hair haloing his pale skin, and his mouth ajar with heated desire. Just like with Tatum, playing with Ken always brought Daisuke’s muscles into a frenzy, making his attempts at denial or sex talk near impossible when his hunger for intimacy was so pronounced on his demeanor.

But he craved it. Not that he didn’t love sex--a lot--but what he really craved was the closeness. The desire to be needed and wanted and accepted. For so long, Ken had been right under his nose--his quiet belief and lack of surprise in his success… Just being around the man was enough to allow him to die happy.

At times, Daisuke didn’t know how to repay the favor. He was never good at that. The best he could do was dedicate his loyalty and love, in hopes that it would be enough. And even if Ken said it was--it never _felt_ like it. If only there was something more he could do… If only...

Ken’s body shrunk into Daisuke’s, like plastic exposed to a flame, his mouth gaping open with soundless pleasure as his right nipple met the warm enclosure of his lover’s mouth. A beautiful, pitiful cry came from Ken’s throat--deep and needy and belonging only to Daisuke. With an eager tongue, Daisuke teased the soft flesh until it pinched into a nub that he gently clamped between his teeth. The sharp hiss of the man below him and the sidewinding writhing forced him to press a firm hand onto a pale shoulder. Predatorily, he glanced up at the sweet thing within his possession. “Do you want this or not, Ken-chan?”

Ken always had the upperhand when it came to intelligence. In daily life, he was always teaching Daisuke new things, and was something that had happened since they were children. Most of the time, the dynamic was welcome--after all, Ken was Daisuke’s favorite teacher. He always exuded patience and trust in Daisuke’s abilities. No professor ever exhibited that to him before.

So it was exciting to Daisuke that he could teach something to Ken. Daisuke was particularly good with his hands--cooking, drawing, and building things. It took years to teach Ken how to cut carrots at the perfect width or how to control the weight of his hand when drawing graphite across paper. But just as Ken was to him--he was patient and trusting.

And he may have always been a little proud that he could teach Ken how to be intimate. After all, Daisuke had enough past lovers to barely contain on two hands. But Ken was special and beautiful and _his_. For every action an equal and opposite reaction came from his partner, and if Ken proved anything, it was that he was a quick and accurate learner.

Ken looked down at him, eyes pleading to be fulfilled, to be taken to a place that he didn’t even know the sound of his own name. Daisuke asked again, his fingers pressed against Ken’s opening, “Do you want this?” Ken was already whimpering, but a yelp came as his nipple was stimulated again.

“Yes!” Ken said between clenched teeth. The dark-haired man was always so irresistibly attractive when he demanded to be taken.

Two curious lubed digits penetrated Ken, and a gentle sighing moan passed his lips. Sitting to his knees, Daisuke draped one of Ken’s legs over his lap and used his other hand to begin slowly stroking his lover’s member. The sensations had Ken writhing on the bed, his hand balling up the askew bed sheets as his hips rocked in time with Daisuke’s motions.

Daisuke had never thought himself as gay. He wasn’t even into assplay when he was fucking women. So it always took some learning himself to figure out _how_ to please Ken. Women were delicate and dainty and particular. Each one had different roadmaps in order to get off--something that sometimes frustrated him when he selfishly just needed a release. But when he was with somebody he cared for… Like Tatum or Ken…

Releasing his hand from Ken’s cock, his fingers still slicking in and out of his lover, Daisuke leaned over and took Ken’s hungry mouth with his. Ken’s need twitched against his bare belly, and his own need throbbed under his shorts.

“Dai-chan,” Ken breathed out between panting. Daisuke shivered, allowing his teeth to nip the side of Ken’s neck. His pet name was only uttered under the protection of bedsheets and disheveled hair. Its effects were Pavlovian, sending Daisuke into a more heated need to hear it again. To hear Ken say his name, to be the one that destroyed Ken’s brain into a slush of lust. “Dai-chan, _please_.”

Leaning up, Daisuke looked down into Ken’s eyes. He teased the sensitive area with his fingers as he watched his boyfriend struggle to construct the words to say. Daisuke supposed he had always had this sort of control of Ken--if it wasn’t physically, it was emotionally. “Yes, Ken-chan?” His craving for the tea flavor of Ken’s pouting lip was insatiable, and he took to kissing and lightly sucking the red flesh.

“I…” Oh, how difficult it was, especially when Daisuke had started to stroke him again. “I’m ready. Please.”

Daisuke stopped and pulled himself away. A protest came from his partner as he did. “Are you… You’re ready? Are you sure?” They’d been fucking around for months, but never actually _fucked_ yet. Then again, one doesn’t fuck somebody like Ken Ichijouji. They take it slow and meticulously until he begs for it, then they _worship_ somebody like Ken Ichijouji.

Ken bit his lip and nodded quickly. “Y-yeah. I love you, Dai-chan. I’m…”

Daisuke pulled Ken up into his arms to sit on his lap, his face barely able to rest in the crook of the taller man’s neck. “I love you too. I just…”

“I appreciate your concern for my well being...” Ken said, his arms wrapping around the red-head. It was clear it was hard for him to keep his composure when his head was so foggy with lust. “I want you.”

Daisuke nodded into paper skin, placing delicate kisses as butterflies lofted around his chest. He could feel the same damned insects fluttering inside of Ken. They were virgins to each other in this regard, and now the fear of displeasing his best friend and lover was… Terrifying. It had happened before...

“I…” Ken leaned back, his nose grazing against Daisuke’s as his eyes fluttered shut. “I need you.”

With eyebrows upturned, Daisuke was the one to whimper now. “Oh f-fuck.” He shifted their bodies down to the bed as he took Ken’s lips, possessively, heavily, as if being without the hot touch across his lips for a second would kill him. “I need you too. More than you will ever know...” He fumbled over the latch of his shorts, until he finally escaped from them, his nakedness now matching the man below him.

If he had ever had to guess… If he had asked his kid-self if he would have ever made love to his best friends years later--he would have laughed. But it wasn’t hard to believe. Daisuke started to reminisce that he had _always_ been in love with Ken. First, superficially--his young admiration for a beautiful, smart, and athletic boy that made his stomach feel light. Taichi-senpai could only surpass Ichijouji Ken with his age.

Even as the Kaiser, Daisuke had some sort of deep rooted respect for the boy. They were rivals--equals but opposites on the same spectrum. When he heard the crest of kindness talk to him, he knew that Ken was more than he ever fronted. After getting to know him, the gut feeling had been correct. It didn’t take long for Daisuke to forget a time before Ichijouji Ken. And not long after that did he start noticing that Ken quite literally meant the world to him. Daisuke hated even accidentally hurting Ken… But they were talking sensitive parts here. If he fucked up… Would Ken ever want to do anything with him again? Would he leave him? Would...

“Dai.” Ken cupped Daisuke’s face within his hands. The gogglehead looked back at his boyfriend with wide eyes, the fear in his heart radiating off of his skin. “I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.” Daisuke searched the blue caverns of Ken’s eyes, hoping to see doubt in seas of endless desire. But it wasn’t there. Instead, it was the same compassionate, trusting, and loving gaze he had seen years before. A stone knotted in his stomach as he frowned deeply.

Pulling Ken’s legs up around his hips, Daisuke ran some lube along his member before nervously readying himself. He was aroused, but moreso, he was scared. “I love you.” He whispered, his words ending with bitten lips.

“I love you, too.”

Slowly, Daisuke pushed himself into Ken. But it didn’t take long for the feeling to arrest the both of them. Like awaking from a dream, Daisuke’s eyes grew wide and his breath caught, inhaling deeply for it to dissipate into a staggering and loud moan. Two hands gripped tightly on Ken’s hips, his nails accidentally burrowing into soft flesh, as he slid further into his lover. Ken groaned, his back arching, the sound from his throat turning more into a scream. Daisuke stopped, partially because of Ken’s noises, and because if he kept going he was afraid he’d faint.

It was… Interstellar. If a feeling could even be described as such. Their connection causing the all too familiar reverberations, where the feeling was just amplified to mind numbing levels. What was happening transcended sex--it was quite literally _becoming one_. For the first time, he felt himself dissolve. He was no longer Daisuke. He was Ken. He was them. And together, the feeling was surreal and beautiful and…

“Dai-chan!” Ken was panting, hips fidgeting. Daisuke could hear Ken’s racing heartbeat in his ears. He let out another pleasured yet uncomfortable yelp. “Keep _moving_!”

“I…” Daisuke had almost forgotten he had the ability to talk. “I can’t…” He pushed forward a little more, and another blinding wave of pleasure destabilized him. He breathed out, fearing that the next sound would be a sob.

Daisuke was doing it again. He could feel the pain of Ken’s virginity through him, but it was subdued by his own burst of pleasure--two sensations that fought for possession over his mind--and he only hoped that Ken was feeling more pleasure than pain at this point.

With all his willpower, Daisuke pumped a few more times, his hands still secured tightly on Ken’s hips. There was no control over the moans that sang from his throat. He felt Ken begin to push back, his spine curving up to greet him, and he could feel that Ken was beginning to enjoy it...

“Daisuke! Ken-chan!”

Daisuke’s attention snapped to the door. Ken shot up, but it only caused him to drive Daisuke deeper into him. The shorter man yelped as he fell on top of Ken, gasping like a fish out of water as he left the warmth of his partner. The voice from the other side of the door called again, and Daisuke was up and on the other end before Ken found his legs stable enough to follow.

With the bedsheet wrapped modestly around himself, Ken rushed to the living room beside a butt-naked Daisuke. “What is…?!” As the words left his mouth, Daisuke tumbled over in laughter, his body slinking to the floor as his hearty laugh filled the apartment. It didn’t take long to figure out what the subject of hilarity was coming from. “P-Paildramon!?”

“Ken-chan,” Stingmon’s part of the fusion spoke, almost sheepishly. “Are you and Daisuke-kun all right?” The fused digimon sat in the living room, its shoulders slouched from being pressed against the ceiling. Luckily, the apartment was safe, spare the coffee table which had been crushed under the weight of its tail. This subjected Daisuke to a wail of laughter.

“Y-yeah.” Ken answered, and he was pretty sure he had just been thrown into a furnace with how hot his entire body was.

“T-they… They!” Daisuke tried to breathe but he couldn’t. He let a laugh draw out before he continued, “They fucking _jogressed_!”

“I _know_!” Ken said tartly, failing to see the humor as he slunk back into the bedroom.

It took a few more minutes before Daisuke had his composure enough to explain the concept of “sex” to two monsters that were incapable of such a feat. He entered back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him to lean on it. Ken had put on a pair of pajama bottoms and was reclining in bed with a book in his lap. He didn’t acknowledge the goggle-head.

“Are you… Mad?” Daisuke stayed at the door, turning only to take a robe off of the hook that hung over it. “It’s not their fault, you know.” He stifled a laugh behind his hand, “We didn’t know that was even a thing that could happen!”

Ken turned a page in his book.

Daisuke frowned. “You really are mad, aren’t you? Dammit.” He shook his head, trying not to get frustrated himself, but he was like an emotional sponge… Or tofu… Or some other porous substance he couldn’t think of. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Ken’s mouth twitched, and his hands clutched his book tighter.

“Fucking _say_ something, Ichijouji. I hate playing these games with you.” Finally, Ken glared up at him, his stern look losing its foundation almost immediately into worry and sadness. “What’s wrong?” He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge as he pushed Ken’s book aside and wrapped his arms around the taller man.   
  
“It wasn’t… What I expected.” The dark haired one whispered.

“O-oh?”

“Did it ever feel like that when you did it with anybody else, Dai?” He looked at him, like a child asking why the sky was blue.

Daisuke rubbed his thumbs across the knuckles of Ken’s fidgeting hands. “No. Not even close.”

“In a good or bad way?”

With a hesitating laugh and an almost shy smile, Daisuke adverted his eyes and shook his head slightly. “The _greatest_ way. I’ve _never_ felt like that. I can’t even ever imagine going back.” He looked back at Ken, his chest filling with so much emotion he felt like it would suffocate him. “I wasn’t even _myself_ anymore.”

Ken nodded, trying hard to understand. He had nothing to compare it to, but knew that he had experienced the same phenomenon. What he had felt was overwhelming--a complete sensory overload that nearly drove him out of his mind. But Daisuke’s words soothed him--bringing his embarrassment and fear and anger out of him, and back into the abundance of love that was there before. Timidly, he took one of Daisuke’s hands in his and pulled the man closer to himself. “Yeah.”

Their lips were nearly touching as Daisuke said, “Yeah, what?” He could feel himself getting aroused again, his free hand moving to massage Ken’s thigh.

“Make me feel it again, Dai-chan.” He took Daisuke’s bottom lip between his teeth, causing the shorter man to growl deep in his throat and climb across his body.

“ _Gladly_.”

Ken had to admit, Daisuke had taught him a lot, even if it hurt his heart to think about it. With his lips sealed against Miyako’s, he felt confident that he could please her, something he could never say if he hadn’t been intimate with his jogress partner. His hand brushed through her long hair, pushing it back across her bare shoulder as his mouth moved to tease the soft flesh of her neck.

“I love the way you make me feel.” She whispered, her fingers tugging on the bottom of his button-up shirt.

It was the morning after his birthday that brought them to this point. When Miyako woke up in his arms to the sound of birds outside the window, they couldn’t avoid the discussion about what they expected out of life. Ken tried not to bring up Daisuke--he could tell that Miyako had made the connection. Saying she didn’t would be an insult to her. But, that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Through careful alluding, he had admitted why he hadn’t seen any of his friend in so long, and how desperately he wanted that to change.

She suggested she could help. That she wanted to help. That everybody else missed him, and that they needed him as much as they needed him. And that maybe, on a slightly related note, she had always dreamed of them talking and being together like that...

A new routine flowed into Ken’s life. Weekend outings became a thing. Miyako dragged him to karaoke with Taichi and some of the other original chosen. They even spent an entire night binge coding with Koushirou just for the fun of it. Ken remembered how it felt to laugh, and how it felt to be wanted. His email inbox certainly cared little for him in recent months.

It only brought him joy that Miyako wanted to spend as much time with him as he did with her. Somewhere between loving caresses and timid kisses came a relationship. Tonight, she was irresistible. Ken had been watching her all night--with each sip of her drinks, her lips grew duller as she left the remains of their rosy blush on the rims of her drinking glasses. It was his idea to go out tonight. Miyako understood the reason without having to guess--again, she was intelligent enough to understand Ken’s silent struggle. It was part of this that made her so desirable. So delicious to eat with his eyes as she licked her top lip between sentences. The way she smirked whenever his fingers tickled the top of her hand.

A few drinks later, it took little convincing to get Miyako to go home with him that night as well.

Pushing her against the wall, Ken’s long fingers wrapping around the strap of her dress to pull it down past her shoulder, he breathed an inebriated sigh of frustration into her perfumed skin. “Miyako…”

“Ken-chan.” She started to unbutton his shirt, but something awoke in Ken before she could finish. The only other time he heard that name was…

Ken tugged her up by the hips, her legs wrapping around him as he held her against the wall. Their breath stunk of heavy alcohol, but their combined arousal made it easy to ignore. With one arm supporting her weight from under, and the other trying to remove Miyako’s garments, it was proving to be a little more than his fuzzy head could handle. He leaned sharply into Miyako and moaned into her ear, “Bedroom?”

She nodded, so fast and quickly that she accidentally slammed her forehead into his. Ken stepped back a little bit, Miyako sliding down the wall before he caught her between giggles. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, one hand held to her forehead. Ken placed a kiss on her cheek, offering a quick and wordless forgiveness, before hoisting her up around his waist and carried her into the bedroom.

Dropping Miyako on the bed, she sat at the edge of the bed and continued where she had left off. It didn’t take long for Ken to be barechested, his eagerness causing him to be one knee up on the mattress and looming over her with hungry lips. The top of her dress was slouched below her naked breasts now, and Ken had taken to playing with a pink nipple between his fingers, reveling in the soft whimpers that came from behind her nose.

They hadn’t exactly taken the physical part of their relationship very slowly, despite not having had sex yet. Perhaps it was the pressure of being in their late twenties that brought them to make snappier decisions. Maybe they just really liked each other. They were sensible enough to admit to either reasoning. And honestly, it was a combination of both.

To Ken, Miyako was familiar. He had known her as long as the other chosen, and her personality was fiery and strong compared to his cool and mellow one. She was intelligent and compassionate, two things that made him long to be around her as often as possible. They had a reasonable flare of disagreements that only rooted deeper appreciation and respect. Hell, he was beginning to think he was even in love.

Miyako had taken it upon herself to unlatch his belt and unfasten his pants. There wasn’t a call for foreplay--their heads were too foggy to concentrate on something that long. Ken kissed her feverishly as he ran his hands up the insides of her thighs, and he nearly gasped when she said into his ear, “ _Fuck_ me.”

Somewhere in the slosh of his brain, the echo of Daisuke clawed through. Ken’s time as a top was few and far between, but when he took on the role, Daisuke always demanded it--raw, commanding, and full of need. At those times, it wasn’t about being loved; it was about being controlled. The importance was being brought to ecstasy by the actions of the one you trusted most--even if it was behind a veil of thrills.

Ken stepped out of his pants and underwear, pulling Miyako closer to him as he stood at the edge of the bed. She helped him remove her panties, her stockings halfway up her calves and her dress still haphazardly around her midsection. He hesitated for a moment, choosing to spend a few more minutes leaning over her, exploring her mouth and skin and breasts, until finally she was begging for him. Her hands were snaked up under his shirt, her nails clawing for resolution across his skin. “Ken-chan.”

He breathed out as he guided himself into her. Both of their breathing hitched into gasps, and they sat waiting for the other to make the next move. Neither of them were virgins, but it had been a considerable amount of time since either of them had intercourse. Ken’s hands clenched Miyako’s hips as he eased in more, causing them both to moan delightfully in pleasure. “Miyako-san,” he groaned, his hips beginning to rock, pushing the bed to protest at every movement.

Hard to believe he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have sex. But it was clear to him, crystal clear, that this was _different_. The feeling didn’t surround him, engulf him until he was nothing but emotions… Floating in a sea of disconnection, not knowing where his place was in the physical plane of things. No, he was ever present and in control. Every movement, every moment, everything--they were his, and his alone.

Ken moved his hands to either side of Miyako, leveraging himself better to drive deeper and quicker into his partner. Sweet, beautiful sounds came from the woman--all of them singing for him as he performed for her. Each thrust pressed a moan from his lungs, and even through the hazy drunkenness, he could feel every bit of himself twitch and pulsate from the sensations. It didn’t take long. If they weren’t so sloshed, he’d be a bit more embarrassed. With eyes shut tight and hands balling into fists, his arms threatening to give out, he let out a growling groan as he came inside her. Panting wildly, and hips moving idly, he let himself drop to his elbows over her and place a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Miyako.”

Mindlessly, Miyako continued to move her hips, loving the feeling of being so close to her best friend, her boyfriend, and her lover. “I love you too, Ken.” It came out more as a sigh, borderlining a whimper.

Eventually, they both fully disrobed and crawled lethargically into bed. Ken spooned Miyako until she fell asleep, and even though he physically felt like he could follow, his mind still refused to turn off. It was true, he wasn’t going to refuse it to himself that he loved Miyako. The pounding in his chest seemed to be enough proof of that to him. But he didn’t want it to be for the wrong reasons. He didn’t want it to be a rebound.

He wanted to be over Daisuke.

Ken buried his face into Miyako’s silken hair. He loved her. He loved her for saving him from a man that couldn’t stay with him. He loved her for spending the time with him and being patient. He loved her because he was something he never thought he could be. For once… For once…

He was _normal_.

No calls for geniuses. No screaming girls yearning for his good looks. No judgemental stares for the horrors of his past. No more sharing the same consciousness. No more losing himself, when all he wanted all his life was to _find_ himself.

Hot tears welled in Ken’s eyes as he pressed his lips to the back of Miyako’s head. He felt ungrateful. He felt like he was being unfair. Daisuke had given him so much, but in the end it, was _too_ much. And he couldn’t find himself along that path for the rest of his life, no matter how much his heart ached for it every day. Miyako was where his mind and body could rest. He thought, fleetingly, that they could even be married and have kids if he wanted to. The picture perfect family, almost to a fault. But he couldn’t think of anything in the world that would make him happier at that moment.

His arms tightened around her slender frame, sighing softly past his tears. Daisuke was everything to him--he always had been. For over fifteen years they had been best friends. There was never a question of who he was with Daisuke--he never had to apologize or alter who he was to satisfy the credentials of being the fiery boy’s friend. But in the end, their intensity had grown to burn Ken, and as much as it soured his stomach to think it, to realize it was one of the main reasons he couldn’t be with Daisuke anymore…

Honestly, he thought, the fact that they ever expected it to work all seemed so… Naive.

Oh, but he knew that whatever hangover he woke up with wouldn’t help to dull the real nausea in stomach. Nearly a year later, he’d have to face his other half. He’d have to look the man he still loved in the eye and see if his friend’s silence was all because he loved him still too. And he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to do it. In fact, he was almost positive he didn’t.


	8. One More Time

> _ May 1, 2017 _
> 
> _ Daisuke, _
> 
> _ According to my watch, you should have landed in New York by now. How does it feel to be in your new home? You have to tell me all about how your trip went. Please tell me you managed to get some sleep on the way over, and that they fed you more than the dog food they gave us that time we went. _
> 
> _ We already miss you. Jyou says sorry again for missing your going away party. I told him it was fine. After all, we’ll all see you again. _
> 
> _ You know where I’m at if you need me. Good luck, Daisuke. _
> 
> _ Ken _

Daisuke’s fingers traced the arrows of his D-Terminal. Sweat trailed down his sideburns, catching into the trimmed scruff of his beard. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and looked up into its canopy. The Digital World made it easy to be nostalgic when so little changed over the years--much less the days. Never had he seen its branches bare or the color vary from the limey hue.

This was theirs. “Yggdrasil” was their code, the name given to the tree that never aged or never changed. Because sometimes, at dawn, Daisuke swore he could see rainbows reflecting off of the shimmer of the leaves.

Right now, this felt like the only safe place to be in the Digital World. 

> _ May 17, 2017 _
> 
> _ Daisuke, _
> 
> _ I’m sure you have been very busy. How are things? Everything is going well here. I’m slated for a promotion to a full salaried position in the next couple of months. Soon, I’ll be able to actually be on the field. Wormmon is really excited about it. He’s been itching to get back into action. I think it has to do with Veemon not being around anymore. _
> 
> _ We all miss you. Please tell us how you are doing. _
> 
> _ Ken _

“Yeah, I’m up for becoming sous chef!” Daisuke said, swirling the hard liquor within his hand. “You guys should come visit some time. I can at least give you all a group rate.” His teeth shown as he slapped Lou on the back. 

Daisuke wasn’t necessarily eager to meet up with the group of Japanese Chosen. Ever since he started dating one of the Americans, he just sort of “became” one of the American Chosen. Fifteen years ago, they saved New York City together. Luckily for Daisuke, they had remained in the Northeast. However, due to conflicting schedules, he still had only met with them once since he had become a resident. Lou, Maria, Phil, Michael, Wallace, Tatum… They were his family now. 

“That’s so great, Davis.” Maria chimed in. She was a couple of years younger than Daisuke, and  had become a bit of a kid sister to him. Daisuke figured it was better than the big sister he  _ did _ have. “Count me in!”

“Me too, then.” Lou said with a smile.

“Good!” Daisuke placed one hand on his hip and raised his glass. “To many more peaceful years.”

His friends mimicked his motions and echoed, “To many more peaceful years!”

> _ June 7, 2017 _
> 
> _ Motomiya, _
> 
> _ How have you been? I still haven’t heard from you, and it’s been a few months since we last spoke. I hear from Taichi-san that you are fitting in well. He said you have a job as a line cook. Nothing could make me happier, Motomiya. I knew you could do it. _
> 
> _ Things have been well over here. My first day on the field was uneventful at best. I had always heard that they keep the rookies from the real heat, but I figured my credentials would have spoken more for me. _
> 
> _ I hope to hear from you soon. _
> 
> _ Ichijouji Ken _

“How you doing?” Tatum asked. She placed a hand on the small of Daisuke’s back and drew her face close to his. Her eyes were narrow with concern.

It took a couple of beats for Daisuke to respond, his eyes fixated on Taichi and Koushirou halfway across the yard. The paper lanterns strung across the terrace beams provided a gentle glow on the patio, sometimes hiding the important details of people’s faces until they were too close to tell. Fortunately, Taichi had still yet to grow fully out of his wild hair style, making him easy to spot with even a candle’s worth of light. “I’m all right.” He muttered, finally looking at her in the eye.   
  
“You know the drill.” She nodded.

Daisuke forced a smile, wrapping his free arm behind her back and drawing her close. For the occasion, she wore a low back dress with sea animal printed leggings, accented with dolphin and orca earrings hanging low against her neck. Her hair was dyed in pastel blues and greens, appeasing Betamon always loved it when she matched the sea. With a gentle hand across her back, Daisuke leaned in and kissed her softly, feeling a layer of anxiety peel away as their lips parted.

“I know the drill.” His smile was real this time, finding a little bit of courage within himself to deal with the party for a little longer.

“Heeeey! If it isn’t the Motomiya Missile himself!” Taichi slurred, slapping a hand on Daisuke’s shoulder. It was inevitable that the previous leader of the Chosen would have found him. With a small grimace of a smile, Tatum shrugged out a “sorry” and slunk away to leave her boyfriend with his childhood mentor.

> _ July 20, 2017 _
> 
> _ Motomiya-kun, _
> 
> _ Everybody wants to know if you are coming to Japan. Odaiba Day is soon, afterall. I said I would check in with you, though I have low hopes that you will answer.  _
> 
> _ Ichijouji Ken _

“We missed you, man.” Taichi said, wrapping his arm around Daisuke’s shoulder. He brought the Daisuke closer to his chest, the heat of the alcohol on his breath suffocating what space they had between them. If they were in any other place at any other time, Daisuke would be berating Taichi for not using their secret handshake. Instead, the gogglehead shoulders sprung up, rigid and stiff against his idol. “I mean, we  _ miss _ you. You know… Because you’re gone.”

Daisuke laughed a little, a wash of guilt plating against his chest. He tried to move away and break some distance, but Taichi had always been a bit stronger of them two. “Yeah, dude, I mean… I miss you too.” He paused and said under his breath, “All of you.”

“I’m glad you could at least make it out today. It’s a special day.” Each word seemed to bring Taichi closer to sobriety, as his body shifted to face Daisuke, and his right hand rested on his friend’s shoulder.

“I know… It is.” Daisuke started to feel a knot form in his throat, and he tried to move away again.

“Hey hey hey, you got to come see everybody else, yeah?” Tachi was slipping back into a slight slur.

With a gentle hand, he carefully removed Taichi from his shoulder, shaking his head as he did. “No, it’s fine. I’ll catch up with everybody when I get to ‘em. I promise.”

Taichi nodded to the point of exaggeration. His mentor then smiled, thinly at first, his eyes crescenting as it broke open to reveal his teeth. “What we’ve done; what you’ve done.” He pointed to the goggles around Daisuke’s neck. “I’m proud of you.”

> _ August 01, 2017 _
> 
> _ Motomiya-kun, _
> 
> _ Happy Odaiba Day, Motomiya. All of us met around the Fuji Television Station today. Everybody asked me about you. I don’t know why; aren’t you friends with them online? They know more about what’s going on with you than I do. _
> 
> _ We all wish you could have made it. It would have been nice to see you, even if only for a little while. _
> 
> _ Ichijouji Ken _

Daisuke held tightly onto his empty drink, his eyes darting across the party in hopes of finding a quick refill or somebody to latch onto. Tatum had gone off to talk to the Poi brothers, and Taichi had returned back to Koushirou, and what appeared to be, Mimi. He could still feel Taichi’s hand on his shoulder, the empty hollow creating a gravity of guilt that pressed in on every angle of his body.

What had he done? He did nothing worthy of praise from Taichi. So what? When he was a kid, he was just too stubborn to give up fighting and ended up being a small piece of an end to a great conflict. What had he done since then? For one, he fucked his best friend--physically, mentally, and matter-of-factly. Then, he ignored his teammates and their friendship so he could selfishly pursue a childish ambition of getting that “American Dream”. And that was only in the past couple of years.

Really, he was nothing but a disappointment. A coward.

Across the patio was an open field, lit both by torches and stringed lanterns between poles. Digimon of all shapes, sizes, and power levels lingered. There were tables of food and dozens of different toys to preoccupy them--mostly so they could test their skills against each other without causing actual damage. Daisuke spotted V-mon lifting Wormmon above his head, the two of them laughing before collapsing to the ground. Daisuke smiled to himself; glad that at least he was able to give V-mon what he wanted. That made it all worth it.

Down the gravel pathway was an islanded bar. Daisuke figured that was his next best step to forgetting about the night. It didn’t take long for his pace to slow, the crunch of the stones beneath his feet ceasing. The ice in his glass began to chatter. Between the gaps of the party, he was completely self aware of the heaving of his breath and the popping of his knuckles. 

He wished he had planned an escape route.

“Ken,” he said to himself, the familiarity of the name making the tip of his tongue tingle. He let his tongue rest at the roof of his mouth--it was sweet and perfect and he missed it more than anything. “Ken…” He said, just to feel it leave him again.

His hair was longer, pulled back and gathered into a low ponytail. He was wearing a simple outfit--long sleeved cashmere sweater and a pair of slacks--but somehow he made it look so expensive. Beside him was Miyako, dressed up in a light strapless dress, her hair pinned up and lips bright with lipstick and a smile.

Daisuke didn’t stand around long enough to see them kiss. His glass slipped from his hand and shattered across the ground. There was no time to look for Tatum. No time to collect V-mon. There was no way he was going to spend another second there.

> _ August 30, 2017 _
> 
> _ Motomiya-kun, _
> 
> _ I haven’t heard from you in five months. I suppose at this point you never intend to talk to me again. _
> 
> _ This hasn’t been easy, Motomiya-kun. We all miss you. Hikari-chan says she or Taichi-san haven’t heard from you in months. What’s wrong? Are you all right? Do you need help? Don’t think you can’t ask us--we all love you. _
> 
> _ Just a few minutes, Motomiya-kun. Just a few minutes is all it takes to respond. I don’t care what you say. Anything.  _ Anything.  _ Just pretend for a second that we’re worth even that. _
> 
> _ This is over a decade of friendships you’re breaking. I never once would have expected you to act like this. Your friends are so important to you. I know at least that much about you. All we need is one answer. We just want to know you’re all right. _
> 
> _ I hope to hear from you soon. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Ichijouji Ken _

Daisuke snapped his head against the trunk of the tree, groaning dramatically as he did. He imagined Ken, quietly and internally seething as he diligently wrote the email. Precise and polite as always, all veiled behind his venomous words. All of it was justified, though. Daisuke couldn’t fault him for it.

By avoiding Ken, he had started avoiding everybody. It was easier that way when  _ everything _ reminded him of Ken. Taichi’s jogress with Yamato. Hiraki’s perpetual kindness. Koushirou’s brains. Iori’s somberness. The bastard had made him weak. Frightened of his ghostly shadow across all parts of his life, making him long for the days where his only fear was having any at all.

And then there was another message, timestamped mere minutes after the previous one. The preview of the email contained it all:

> _ August 30, 2017 _
> 
> _ I guess it matters little to tell you I still love you. _

That’s when the emails stopped. That’s when Daisuke’s heart may have stopped for a few moments, or found it lodged somewhere in the middle of this throat. His fingers nervously twitched on his device as his teeth sawed through his bottom lip.

The desperation of the last message. What did he hope to achieve? Was Ken willing to throw away all that he had done over the year to humor Daisuke’s dreams? How was that fair? What was he expecting? For Daisuke to forgive him? To be all right with losing the one person he couldn’t afford to lose?

“Idiot.” Daisuke spat, he dropped the D-Terminal next to him and rested his forehead on his knees. “You’re a fucking idiot!” He wasn’t sure who he was yelling at. He wasn’t sure it mattered. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he held them close to this chest as he tried his best not to break into tears.

“Motomiya-kun.”

They were kids. Ken had invited Daisuke over for dinner one night. Excitedly, Daisuke boarded the train to Tamachi and rang the buzzer to the Ichijouji’s apartment. It felt like an eternity. He shuffled side to side, tapping the soles of his shoes together as his fingers fidgeted into balls behind his back. When Ken’s mother opened the door, Daisuke bowed so far that he almost fell over, bringing a polite chuckle from Mrs. Ichijouji.

“Motomiya-kun,” he had said when they finished eating. When he asked Daisuke to join him in his room and share desserts and play a game of cards. He would say it again when he would ask for Daisuke to chew with his mouth closed or when he was wishing him a good night. It was tender and careful, as if he said it in any other way, Daisuke may up and leave him. 

But Daisuke liked it when Ken said his name--liked it even more when he started to say his given name. He liked it the most when he got a pet name.

“Motomiya-kun.” A soft hand rested onto Daisuke’s. He flinched, but was not at all surprised to find the voices in his head were reality. That Ken was here, because of course he was. He always was.

“Ichijouji.” Daisuke refused to raise his head. If he did, he may look into those eyes and never want to leave.

There was a rustle, and another hand fell onto his. “It’s been awhile.”

Daisuke curled up more into himself, nodding. “Yeah.” The touch. He wish he could say he had forgotten what it felt like to be touched by Ken, but he didn’t. His craving for the electricity, the warmth, and the faint pulsing of his skin was insatiable.

They sat for several minutes, Ken inhaling to start a sentence, but falling short before anything was formed. With a gentle squeeze of his hands, he finally said, “I’m glad to see you.”

“Sure.”

“Motomiya-kun.”

“Stop it.”

“What…?” 

Ken was about to remove his hands, when Daisuke found himself latching onto them. His head raised, his eyes already sore with tears. “Please, please don’t call me that.”

“Dai…”

“I just read them. I just read them all. I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it before.” Daisuke still couldn’t look at Ken directly, choosing to focus on the mountain behind him that was etched out of the skyline by the bright digital moon. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Daisuke snorted, running his nose along the cloth on his shoulder. Ken’s hands were smooth between his rough palms. “Don’t give me that shit. I ignored you for almost a whole year.” He rested the side of his head against his knee and pulled his partner’s hands closer to himself. “I want to hate you.”

“I understand.” Ken shifted closer to Daisuke, taking the same huddled position until their shins were touching each other. “It’s easier to be mad than it is to forgive.”

“I’m nowhere close to forgiving you. Not this time.”

“I’m sorry, Dai.”

“Why?” Daisuke ran his hands up Ken’s arms, rubbing them as the frustration built up in his chest. “I just can’t understand why. We’re perfect for eachother, Ken... I love you!” He gripped onto Ken’s forearms and finally allowed his eyes to connect with the other man’s. “So why did you give up? All I feel is just… Just...”

Ken was a wall. His lips were thin and his eyebrows straight. His hands came up to balance on Daisuke’s knees. “We weren’t perfect.”

Daisuke’s eyebrows furrowed, and his fingernails dug into Ken’s arms. “How? You… How can you say that?” Only Ken could send him from sadness to anger in a blink of an eye. “It’s because perfect little Ken isn’t a faggot, right? ‘Dai-chan, Dai-chan, get your dick away from me.’” Throwing his head back, he laughed a mocking laugh. “Except for the part where you’ve  _ never _ complained.” He could feel Ken getting angry, and Daisuke wanted so much to feed off of the fuel. He pushed his back against the tree and leveraged his way to stand up, Ken’s gaze following him up as he did.

“Motomiya!” Ken protested. The anger in his voice squeaked into a fearful peak.

“Motomiya up your ass. Or are you afraid that will turn you on?” Daisuke started to walk away, as his chest filled with fire, and his eyes stung with flames.

Ken flung to his feet and started to follow his counterpart. With a hand outstretched, he said, “I’ve never felt this way.” He waited until Daisuke stopped. “I’ve never felt ‘normal’, Dai.” Taking another step, he waited again until he could see the side of Daisuke’s face turn toward him. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“None of us do, dumbass.” Daisuke spat, taking another step forward. “We’re Chosen.” The party was a good half hour walk from here, but he knew of a television location that could get him home in five. Finishing this conversation was just as appealing as spending the rest of the night at the party: not at all.

“I’m always under the microscope, I’m always trying to be…”

Daisuke’s hands balled into fists. “What are you trying to say?” Side stepping, he glared back at Ken. The taller man was nothing but a faceless shadow on the plane of the hill, just like he had been in all of his bad dreams for the past several months.

“Maybe… Maybe you’re right. Maybe we  _ are  _ perfect for each other.” Ken trailed, his hand reaching up his arm to rub the tender spot Daisuke had left. “I’ve been striving for perfection for all my life, Dai. I’m done. The way you make me feel, the way we are together… It’s too much.”

“Too much?” Daisuke found himself moving back toward Ken. “The fuck are you on about? What you’re talking about is exactly what everybody  _ dreams _ about. You understand that?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

With heavy strides, the smaller man closed the space between himself and Ken, causing Ken to back up to where he was before. “I don’t get it. You don’t want to be with me, because  _ I make you feel too good? _ ”

“Daisuke...” Ken trailed, his back hitting the trunk of the tree. 

Daisuke landed his hands on either side of Ken, his head tilted up to look at his jogress partner. The white light exposed the taller man’s face, and the gogglehead watched it melt from stern to remorseful. “Just be honest with me, you asshole.” 

Ken breathed out. Their chests touched as Daisuke leaned into him. Even though they couldn’t see each other well, Ken could imagine how Daisuke was looking just by his heartbeat. He knew that Daisuke’s nose was scrunched up, his lips small, and his thick eyebrows knit. His chocolate eyes must have been intense and dilated. It made his heart race; it made him miss sharing the same body with him; it made his breath shaky.

It started off angrily--hungrily. Daisuke mashed his lips against Ken’s, his knee falling between the taller man’s legs and resting against the tree. With little force, he coaxed the man to open his mouth against his, to let Daisuke taste the sake on his tongue, and feel his breath against his face. Warmth spread up Daisuke’s chest and across his arms, unfurling like wings as he pulled on Ken’s bottom lip with his teeth. He let the flesh go before pressing his chest completely into his partner’s, feeling their quickened pulse and wondering if he’d ever be happy again only hearing one heartbeat in his ears. Dropping his hands to Ken’s hips, Daisuke kissed the keeper of Kindness until they were both out of breath.

“I love you,” Daisuke said, breathy, eyes closed, his face loose, and his mind in bliss to be touching Ken again. His lips grazed against Ken’s, the soft plush of his partner’s lips causing pings across the ends of all his bones and raising the hairs on his skin. 

“Stop, Dai,” Ken whimpered. Neither of them believed it, as Daisuke went for another kiss. “Stop. What about Tatum?”

Daisuke’s fingers snaked between Ken’s belly and his waistband, tugging on it so their hips snapped together. He grinned at the revelation in their pants. “I don’t care. I don’t  _ care _ .” He took Ken’s lips again, carefully, savoring every touch, hoping with each kiss that it would bring more. Every day. That Ken would be his.

It took a lot to pry Daisuke off of him, because Ken knew he wasn’t doing anything to fight the advances. His lips felt numb, his heart felt light, and his mind was fuzzy. Moving his head to the side, Daisuke kissed his cheek instead, as Ken pushed against the tree to decouple himself from his partner. He stumbled past the gogglehead, straightening his sweater and hair as he stood up to face him. “W-well  _ I do,  _ Motomiya _. _ ” He snarled. Unconsciously, he ran his fingers across his lips, and he let his fingernails trail down his chin. “I’m… I’m seeing Miyako-san.”

“What…?” Daisuke’s shoulder had hit the tree when Ken had pushed him away, and now it felt like he had been slammed in the gut. “Miyako?  _ Miyako _ ?” His nose flared and his eyes bore into the grass at his feet. “ _ Miyako fucking Inoue? _ ” He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a cry.

“Don’t be a dick, Motomiya.”

Daisuke laughed, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. “ _ Miyako!? _ ” A low chuckle bubbled in his lungs and up through his throat. He forced his palms into his eyes as his laughter grew louder. “Holy shit, Ken. What the fuck.”

“What’s your problem? What did you think I’d be doing? Waiting for you to come back? Were  you waiting for me to change my mind?” He tilted his head, getting more frustrated with Daisuke’s uncontrolled laughter. “Shut up!”

“You shut up!” Daisuke’s head snapped to attention, “What the fuck can she give you that I can’t?”

Ken stood deathly still, running his tongue across his bottom lip before speaking. “A normal life.”

Slamming his fist against the tree, Daisuke growled. “A normal life!? Is that… What does…”

“We would never have lasted, Dai. I’ve thought so much about going back to you. Even now, I still do. Dai, you’re amazing. I love you.” Ken stepped forward, his hand grasping the fabric over his heart. “But no matter how many times I think about it, we never end up together. One of us would be unhappy.”

“Just you…” There was a deep sob on Daisuke’s voice. Every moment with Ken, even the bad ones, even this moment, were the best times of his life. How could he ever make Ken not feel the same?

“I couldn’t put you through that.” Ken’s heart sunk as he heard Daisuke hiccup a cry. “I’m tired, Dai. I’m tired of missing you and feeling like I’m losing you.” Unsure of what to do with himself, Ken put his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. “Just tell me it’s over.”

Sliding to his knees, Daisuke rested his head against the tree, his hands fanned out on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. “I can’t.” His fingers gathered the materials of his shorts as he bit his lip. “I can’t lose you.” Ken joined him on the ground, grabbing one of Daisuke’s hands and lacing their fingers. “I’ll just never be used to this. Never.”

Ken rested his head on Daisuke’s. “I won’t either.” They sat quietly, listening to each other breathe, interrupted only by the brief rustle of leaves as the evening breeze blew through. Daisuke ran his thumb against Ken’s and nestled his nose against his neck. A soft laugh came from Ken while he pressed his cheek into Daisuke’s forehead. “You really do look better in that t-shirt.”

“I know.” Daisuke said weakly, but the smile was clear in his voice.

Fireflies blinked and danced across the field. The stars flickered and the moon rose higher in the sky. “Should we head back?” Ken asked, lethargically.

“I want to see the sunrise. Just one more time.” Daisuke hesitantly kissed the sensitive skin of Ken’s neck.

“Of course.” Ken sighed, happy that they still thought on the same wavelength. “Just one more time.”


	9. How it Came to Be

_nichijouji: you available tonight?_   
_gogguruheddo: yea y?_   
_nichijouji: i have some big news. i want you to be the first i tell._   
_gogguruheddo: um k y not say it now???_   
_nichijouji: it might be better for you to hear before bed._   
_gogguruheddo: k whatever_   
_nichijouji: talk to you soon  
gogguruheddo: later_

 

“I have no idea.”

“You have to have _some_ idea.” Maria knelt down next to Daisuke, her voice muffled behind a layer of fleece scarves and high fuzzy collars.

Daisuke pressed his forehead to the glass of the display case and shook it from side to side. “Honestly, I didn’t think I would ever do this.”

“What? Get married?”

Anxiously, he skimmed across the the display of jewelry, the sterile white lights of the fixtures gleaming off the expensive gemstones and polished white gold. “I… Guess. Yeah.”

Maria placed a mittened hand onto Daisuke’s knee and leaned in to comfort him. “She’s going to love it. And she’s _definitely_ going to say yes.”   
  
Daisuke breathed out, relieved to hear it for the five hundredth time. “You think?”

“ _Absolutely!_ ”

“Can I take anything out for you to look at?”

Daisuke looked up at the salesman through the glass, his forehead still glued to the surface. At his side, Maria stood up and leaned her hands on the edges of the case. She smiled big, her gloved fingers raking against the metal edge with nervous excitement. Lined in the creases of her eyes was the wonder that only comes from childhood dreams of lace dresses, diamond rings, and happily-ever-afters.

“Are we shopping for you?” He said to Maria with a snake-like smile. On his nametag was the name Jeremy, an ornament that surely punched a hole through his hundred dollar jacket.

Reactively, Daisuke shot up, waving his hands and shaking his head. “No no. It’s for me. I mean… My…” He paused. For over a year, he and Tatum had been acting through an elaborate partnership, each night walking off set as nothing but friends. Of course, America had taught him that all relationships didn’t have to be as rigid as “girlfriend” and “boyfriend”. What they had lacked stress and obligation… But it still didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure if any of this would even make it feel right. “My... girlfriend.”

“What’s the occasion?” Jeremy was very good with eye contact. Uncomfortably so.

“Engagement!” Maria bubbled as she grabbed Daisuke by the arm and snapped him close to her.

Jeremy played his role amazing. “Oh my! Congratulations! What’s her name?”

It was getting hot. Daisuke could feel the tendons in his legs start to jitter. He subconsciously made note of the exits, having the intense desire to run past their boundaries and away from this whole situation. “Tatum…”

“What a beautiful name. What does Tatum like?”

“She likes simple jewelry… I think. Maybe?” Daisuke placed his hands on the glass and tapped his fingers. He was feeling lightheaded. What was wrong with him? “I’ve never bought jewelry before…”

“That’s why I’m here, mister…?”

“Dai… Davis.” His front teeth gently touched his bottom lip on the tail end of the ‘v’, his nationality ringing clear through his adopted name.

“Davis? Well, Davis, I have plenty of engagement rings to choose from if you will follow me.” Jeremy walked a few feet down as the pair followed. “We have diamonds, gemstones, bands... We can make something fit your price range.”

Daisuke was quiet for a few moments as he looked at the rings on their tiny little pillowed pedestals. He couldn’t tell the difference between most of them, though he was certain their price tags were. “What if…”

“Hmmm?”

“What if… She says no.”

The three of them were quiet.

“What if she says no. Can I return it?”

“Davis…” Maria tried to comfort with a soft laugh. “She’s going to…”

“Don’t worry. We have a very good return policy.”

 

_nichijouji: sorry i’m late. can we still talk?_   
_goguruheado: wtf do you want_   
_nichijouji: can we video?_   
_gogguruheddo: its fucking 2am here. did you forget how to math?_   
_nichijouji: please_   
_gogguruheddo: fine fine_   
_gogguruheddo is calling  
nichijouji picked up_

 

“Hey.”

“Sup.”

“Nothing much.”

“Well, obviously there is, because you have me up as ass o’ clock.” Daisuke leaned over his laptop, bringing his face close to the camera to express a very clear eye roll.

Ken laughed softly, “You’re right. It’s easiest to just come out with it, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“Miyako’s pregnant.”

Daisuke’s throat closed. Long claws of ice dragged down his back, his spine arching away from the back of his chair. “W…” He shook his head and fought back that tears that were already welling in his eyes. “What?”

Ken was quiet for a few moments. Weaning sunlight shone through the corner of Ken’s computer screen. His face was stern. Stoic. Trained. Dark with shadows on one side, showing the slight crease of age along the sides of his mouth. “She’s pregnant, Daisuke.”

“Huh.” A croak cracked against his disbelief. His face was ghostly white, a floating mask in the abyss of his living room. He saw the discomfort in his eyebrows mirrored back at him. “Didn’t waste any time did ya.”

“It certainly was not planned.”

“No kidding.” Daisuke breathed out steadily and swallowed hard. He allowed his back to rest against his chair again, though it still felt like it had been replaced by a block of knives. The darkness swallowed his features on the video, and his lips twitched over grinding teeth. His fingers dug into the hard plastic of his armrest, and he let out a hiss as a fingernail bent back.

Ken’s eyes diverted to something off screen. They were quiet. The discussion of kids was always a weird one. Daisuke always felt like he could be a great dad. He loved being an uncle, and he wasn’t the kind that enjoyed the part of giving them back to their parents after visits. “They’re awesome, Ken.”

“They’re ok.”

“No. They’re _awesome._ I want, like, _ten_.”

“No you don’t.”

“Ok. Fine. But I want three. All boys. No. Two boys and a girl. Eh, whatever. I don’t care. I just want a flock. A horde. _An army_.”

“Daisuke.” Ken rolled his eyes as he took a gentle sip from his tea. “How about one?”

Daisuke’s face scrunched up with restrained delight. Like a balloon letting loose air, he squeaked out, “One?”

Ken placed his cup down and ran his finger along the bottom edge. He focused on the low ripples of the dark tea as it settled against the ceramic walls. The corner of his lips opened into a smirk. “Yes, I think one would be good.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Of course!” Daisuke cackled and grabbed Ken’s hand. “Whose eyes would he have? I think I have stronger genes than you. I think he’d have my dashing good looks and superior athleticism. And he’d have your good sense of direction or something.”

Ken laced their fingers and laughed back. “Don’t kid yourself, Motomiya. He’s going to all the best schools, because he’ll be my clone.” Daisuke let out a ‘pft’ as he drew himself closer to his boyfriend. “What? How else are _we_ going to have kids?”

With a touch of caramel skin against vanilla, Daisuke connected their lips. Slowly, his upper lip slipped against Ken’s lower lip, and he looked up slyly into eyes he’d be happy to see passed onto their offspring. “Let’s find out.”

It had been a fantasy. For them to have adopted kids could be nothing short of that. They knew it, but Daisuke appreciated the idea being entertained. He knew he’d have to sacrifice that need to be with his soulmate. It was worth it. It was. Plus, Ken never was keen on the idea. His own childhood seemed to have stunted him into fear of repeating his parents mistakes. But now Ken was having a kid of his own. Daisuke felt… Betrayed? A little jealous. Flabbergasted for sure.

“I didn’t know you wanted a kid. Thought you would have… Planned more.”

“I would like to have kids.”

“Kid?”

“Kids.”

“Hm.” Daisuke fidgeted in his seat, he noticed that his leg had been jittering the entire time. His teeth caught on his bottom lip, and his eyes cautiously found their way back to the computer monitor. “I’m getting married.”

Now it was Ken’s turn. “W-what?”

“Yeah.”

“When… When did you propose? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Today.” Between the sound of the fish tank and the creaking of the radiator, it felt like Daisuke’s head was going to explode. It was too loud, the darkness seeming to amplify the acoustics of his apartment. He felt his breathing increase, but he forced a nice toothy smile. “Yeah, I did it right in Central Park.”

Ken stared on in silence until a smile appeared across his lips. “I’m so happy for you, Dai.”

“T-thanks.”

It was hard to look at his screen. They were friends again. However, it was still awkward… For Daisuke anyway. Ken was _his_ shame now. The stain in his bed sheets that he could never get rid of. The one he couldn’t bring home to mom. A hole in his personal timeline he wouldn’t be able to retell.  

He thought, if Ken was still within reach--tangibly or metaphorically--he was still obtainable. That maybe, if he waited near his phone just long enough, he’d hear that silken voice calling him back so they could be together--forever this time. It turned out that Daisuke was nothing but a desperate teenager. Foolishly, he put his hopes into his childhood sweetheart, thinking that one more romantic connection would have planted the seed of love to grow again. Now, just like that night Ken said he couldn’t follow, Daisuke was left in the dark. Forced to move on. His stomach tied up in knots, his optimism defeating him once again.

“I won’t keep you up.” Ken said, softly and so delicately that he had to repeat it to get a reaction from his phone mate. “Thank you for allowing me to keep you awake.”

Daisuke nodded hastily. “Yeah, yeah. No problem. Anything for you.”

“Daisuke…”

“I gotta get up early. I’ll be in touch.”

“Good night.”

Daisuke closed the top of his laptop, his free hand coming up immediately to the bridge of his nose, tears touching the tips of his fingers and rolling down to his lips. He heaved out a sigh, a sound turning drastically into a sob. “Fuck.” He muttered. He said it again. And again. Elbows leaning on his desk, he let his back shudder against the empty room as he began to beat his knuckles into his forehead. “ _Fuck!_ ” A disgruntled, muffled scream escaped him, his forearms coming up to protect his face and cover his shame to an audience of none.

They had sat under Yggdrasil as the pinks of the rising sun outlined the twilight mountain scape. Daisuke had sat cradled within Ken’s arms, light kisses being shared in time with lightening bug flashes, their lips moving to stories of past, present, and future. They were insync--their hearts steady and aching for each other when they were so close. “I love you” they said, knowing they couldn’t say it again. “Best friends forever” they echoed, from train rides between towns over a decade ago, trying to remember what it was like to not be the other half of their whole. Both their hands held the scalpel, hoping that if they cut their hearts out together it would be easier than doing it alone.

Daisuke had fooled himself. Again. It took him a year to convince himself it was over. It took a few hours to give him hope. And now…

“I miss you.” Daisuke grabbed the fabric of Ken’s shirt. He held his cheek against the man’s ribs and wished the moment would never end. “I miss us.”

Ken wrapped an arm around the small of Daisuke’s back, pulling him close and nuzzling his nose into a fluff of hair. “This isn’t the end, Dai.” He leaned back slightly and lifted his partner’s chin. In his moral center, he knew what he had done that night was wrong. He was unfaithful to Miyako, he broke his will against Daisuke, and he succumbed to his primal need for the man that understood him more than himself.

He kissed him. He kissed him for the last time. For the first kiss as kids, to the real first kiss as adults, to the kiss during their first intimacy, to all the kisses in between those and this one… He wanted the kiss to be branded on their lips. He wanted it to burn so much that they would wake up in the middle of the night and touch the back of their hands to their mouths to ease the pain. He wanted Daisuke to know that this story was over, but it should never be forgotten.

Daisuke pinched his bottom lip between his fingers, salty tears flowing into the reservoir it created. He stared at nothing--his eyes going in and out of focus, his laptop blurring between existing and not. The skin on his lips had a burning chill. He hoped for hyperthermia. He wished to chop them off so he could never imagine feeling Ken again.

He wanted to forget.

He would forget.

With a shaky hand, he pulled the drawer of his desk open and fumbled for the velveteen box within. Placing it on the table, he drew in a long sniffle and dried his face on the collar of his shirt. Slouching back in his seat, he waited several minutes before grabbing the box and shuffling his way quietly into the bedroom.

A soft orange light illuminated from the side table. Next to the light was a digital clock. 3:02am. It was March. March something. Mid-March because Daisuke could nearly see his breath--the heat turned down low to save himself from the astronomical city heat bill. But she was there. Bundled up under five layers of blankets, her hair sprayed out the top of her cocoon and across the foam pillows she insisted on splurging on.

When he was with Tatum, there was no hiding himself. There was no fear of the future or the words others would whisper. They liked talking with their mouths full, scoffing at baseball fans (for different reasons), and arguing until late in the night the origin stories of their favorite fictional characters. They grew up. They fought. They laughed. They loved. And through it all, she had stayed. Somehow, she had a will of steel to deal with a confused baffoon like himself, and maybe he didn’t want to be with anybody else.

Rounding to her side of the bed, Daisuke kneeled down beside Tatum, his breath hitching at her beauty, as if it were the first time he had ever seen her. Long lashes, thin lips... That one tooth that caught the bottom of her lip, parting them slightly as she let out soft little snores. He placed a hand on her cheek and rubbed his thumb along her cheek bone. Tatum winced slightly against the interruption, her body curling in on itself as she groaned. “Mmmmm.”

“Tatum.” Daisuke whispered. His heartbeat was railing through his ears, he could barely keep hold of his thoughts through the noise.

“Wha…. What.” Her eyes softly fluttered open and groggily directed to the alarm clock. “What the fuccckkk. What’s wrong? Is something wrong!?” She started to flail out of bed, but Daisuke moved his hand to her waist to pin her down back to the bed.

"Shh. It’s okay. I just…” His thumb rubbed so hard against the little red box that some of the fabric rubbed off onto his skin. “I have something to ask you.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No.” Daisuke said bluntly. He pulled the box up within her view and popped it open. Daisuke made note of the clock again. It felt like an eternity before she said anything, but he noted that not even a minute had elapsed.

“Holy shit.”

“Will you…”

Tatum had flung out of bed before he could even finish. His back hit the floor, causing an “ooph” to escape him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her cheek pressed flush to his. She nodded. She nodded a lot, and he could feel her tears on his cheeks instead of his own--though he could feel his coming on too. But this was better. This was good. “Yes, Daisuke.” She said, “Yes, I will.”

With strong arms, Daisuke wrapped Tatum close to his body. They didn’t threaten to become one, or to lose themselves in the other. She would be his anchor as he would be to her. He would live this life because he wanted to, not because he had to. He would keep telling himself that until it wouldn’t hurt anymore, and until the metal on his lips cooled and tasted like flesh again. There was a perfection in their imperfection--one that they could agree on. One that would allow them to stay together, forever.

He’d be fine without Ken.

Or, at least, he’d come to be fine without him.


End file.
